


Working Title: The Real Thing

by ChronicLegCrampSince99



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Drinking, F/M, Longing, M/M, Post-Game(s), Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 16:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16814596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicLegCrampSince99/pseuds/ChronicLegCrampSince99
Summary: Six months following the end of the war and Seifer's Garden-ordered exile from Balamb, Galbadia and Esthar, life is going on for Squall and his make-shift family. However, even after saving the world and getting the girl, the SEED Commander can't seem to fill the empty pit in his heart. Stuck figuratively in the past, seeing ghosts in every shadow and causing unintentional problems in his and Rinoa's relationship, will Squall finally figure out what it is he truly wants? Or will he let himself fall back into self-reliant isolation, never to move on and never to love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song Mexico by Incubus and the album Morning View in general.  
> Mexico is Part 1s entry in this fics playlist :)
> 
> *Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII and all its characters and places belong to SquareEnix, respectively*

_**Part I: Bend or Break** _

Squall didn't look at him directly- couldn't. He kept his stormy indifferent eyes on Headmaster Cid and the other faculty staging the trial. His presence alone was enough to send the ghosts of electric tendrils fizzing through his limbs down to the tips of his fingers. The navy of his uniform- the simple cadet ensemble since he never did make SEED- the fine blond hair and golden tan skin hovered in his peripheral and he narrowed his eyes until the man was nothing but a blur of colours. Unease and anxiety was pouring out of Rinoa, standing too close beside him with her emotions sinking into his veins. It made him feel sick to the stomach but he tried to ignore it as best he could, gritting his teeth.

“...exile.”

He tuned back into the proceedings as a heavy, tense hush fell over the room, his heart rate quickening and his eyes boring into Cid's fatherly lived-in face. After an endless moment, Rinoa's feelings surged violently along with the sudden rise of equally shocked and outraged voices surrounding them. Her fingers dug into his arm painfully as he struggled to withstand her onslaught of volatile emotions, his lips parting under the effort. His eyes finally flew to the side of Cid where Seifer Almasy remained standing silently, his chin up but his face distant, eyes glazed as though unseeing. Squall took in the still fresh-looking cuts and bruises that marred his face, the dark circles shadowing once vibrant cat-like eyes and blood and mud dirtied hair shaken out of its normal tidy slicked-back style. He felt pale and clammy, beads of sweat gathering at his temples as a result of Rinoa's effect on him and the scene unfolding before him.

“How can you let that maniac walk free?!”

“Headmaster Cid! You can't agree with this?!”

“That psycho's gotta pay for his crimes!”

“This is unforgivable!”

“He's a murderer!”

“...Twisted...!”

“...Evil...!”

“... _Monster_...!”

Squall roughly swallowed against the bile clawing its way up his throat, hands fisting and eyes aching with how hard he was glaring at his ex-rival, ex-sparring partner, ex-brother.

_(Look at me.)_

_(Look me in the eyes.)_

_(Face me, Seifer!)_

The blond reacted to nothing around him; not the hysteria, not the stern hands of the SEED guards pushing him forward into a march.

“Get moving!” Was shouted into his ear and Squall took a subconscious step at the dim spark of life that he saw flicker across Seifer's face. The blond belatedly started the walk through the centre of the room to the exit without looking at anyone, his towering height preventing him from hiding away from the dozens of judging eyes. He flinched near imperceptibly when halfway to the door somebody lunged at him, held back only by Fūjin and Raijin. Squall watched him, face tight and the sound of Rinoa's inconsolable crying in his ears.

_(That's...it?)_

_(After everything...?)_

“He's not really free,” said a reserved voice, almost drowned out by the noise. He tore his gaze away from Seifer's retreating back with difficulty, side-eyeing Irvine wordlessly as the latter removed his hat and flattened his hair with the palm of his hand, releasing a tired sigh.

“Irvine's right,” Quistis said with a melancholic smile as she joined them. Squall cast his eyes towards the open doors Seifer had been taken away through, frigid gaze turning inwards. “He's got to live with it now, live with himself.”

“That's if he can,” Irvine uttered soberly, replacing his hat on his head and tipping it down.

“I hope he can't.” All eyes turned sharply down to Rinoa; Selphie had sat down beside her at some point, arms around her shoulders in support. Squall would have felt guilt clench his heart at not having reached for her the moment the verdict had been announced, had he not been struck by the words that had just left her mouth. The young sorceress roughly swiped the tears off her face only for them to be replaced with new ones, her dark eyes gleaming with hate and her cheeks ruddy with heat. “I hope he can't sleep, can't eat, can't _breathe_ without remembering the faces of all those people he killed!” A sob pillowed the end of her declaration and she dissolved back into crying uncontrollably, pressing her face into Selphie's shoulder.

“Rinoa...” The petite girl breathed helplessly, looking partly horrified and partly heartbroken as she clutched her closer. Squall turned away from them, feeling wave after wave of Rinoa's anguish rolling through him, beginning to feel like he was drowning. He looked to Irvine, who could only return his searching gaze with deep concern etched into the lines of his face, replacing the laughter that usually lingered within them. He looked to Quistis but she had squeezed her eyes shut behind the lenses of her elegant glasses, hands cupping her mouth as if it would help keep her own sobs at bay.

“Can you guys believe this?!” Came Zell's loud angry voice as he stormed up to them with his fists balled and vibrating. “Seifer's literally getting away with murder! Not any old murder either- MASS MURDER! We gotta do something! This isn't right!” Squall felt dizzy as he stared into Zell's tattooed, familiar, _nostalgic_ but hostile face; his own pain was waging a war against the pain that Rinoa was flooding him with, clashing and colliding until he feared he might collapse. He had to get out, he had to get away from them all. With swift, stiffly-controlled movements he made for the exit without a backwards glance.

“What the- Squall?!”

“Squall?!”

“Where are you going?!”

With every step further and further away from them- away from Rinoa- the dizziness lessoned. He could still feel her, could sense confusion in her now at his abrupt departure but it was thinning out into something more like a dull thud at the back of his skull rather than a knife stabbed into his brain. He could breathe again.

“Hey, Squall, wait up!” The sound of Zell's thundering footsteps chasing up to him had the walls immediately closing in again and he sped up. “What're you gonna do? What's the plan?” The second the boy with the spiky blond hair made a grab for his arm his reflexes responded for him, spinning him on his heel, taking a fistful of Zell's top to hurl him back.

“Squall, what the hell?! What is it? What's wrong?” Zell managed to stay on his feet despite the force but kept his distance, eyeing the boy with the tousled golden brown locks with cautious worry. Squall struggled with what to say, breathing hard through his nose and directing his piercing gaze towards the floor. “What're you gonna do with Seifer?” His fine eyebrows drew together in a frown.

_(Do with Seifer...?)_

“He's...” _One of us_ , is what he had perched on his tongue but he caught himself, looking up at Zell's heated, puzzled face. He wouldn't understand, not Zell. “...Nothing. It's over, Zell. All of it.” Before his adoptive brother could say anything more, he walked away, steps resolute even as his heart was in turmoil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter to my first chaptered Seifer/Squall fic.  
> I'm breaking this story up into 3 parts although I've been writing it as one very long one-shot. I havent finished it yet so I'm uploading everything I've done so far and there'll be a pause between now and the next update- I'll try to get it done as quick as I can but its a bit hard to write in between life happening so sorry if I take a million years :)


	2. Chapter 2

When he reached the lift, he pressed the call button and leaned out over the bannister. He spotted Seifer's dishevelled form easily, the two SEED guards shadowing him with their weapons drawn as though anticipating an attack. The lift couldn't arrive sooner for him as he stepped back to wait, tensing up with each second that passed, the lift obliviously chugging its way up. He was in the moment the door swooshed open, jamming his thumb into the button unnecessarily hard.

_(I can't leave it like this...I won't.)_

He undid his uniform jacket with agitated haste, his fingers trembling minutely with untempered adrenaline. His legs shot into a run almost involuntarily, carrying him down the steps with break-neck speed and past the electronic map of the Garden. They were up ahead, slowed down only by Seifer's lethargic steps. They hadn't yet reached the entrance turnstiles and Squall seamlessly switched to a brisk walk, getting his breathing under control.

“Stop.” One of the SEED halted instantly at his command, the other sending a glance over his shoulder before pausing too with a look of surprise. “Thank you. I'll take it from here.” He stopped at a distance, not looking at the war criminal, simply addressing his guards.

“But Sir-?” The second one began, scowling in confusion but he shut his mouth when Squall's eyes snapped to his, his look penetrating.

“Right away, Sir!” The first one intervened smoothly, saluting before jerking his head at his comrade to follow suit. Squall inclined his head as they passed him by, not moving from his spot. A pin drop could be heard once the footsteps of the SEEDs had retracted and he took a much needed breath to steady himself. They had hung a duffel bag no doubt full of Seifer's meagre belongings around his neck, causing him to bow slightly under the weight, his hands remaining shackled at his back.

_(Exile...)_

_(What a disgrace you've become, Seifer.)_

_(Was it worth it...?)_

He took measured steps forwards, hesitating at the man's back in an admittedly twisted hope of unsettling him before grasping one of his forearms and pulling him back around towards the dormitories. The blond didn't protest; didn't speak a word, merely allowed Squall to push him along, which unsettled the latter more as a result than the other way around. Squall's mind replayed the trial helplessly, recalling the uproar at the verdict, Rinoa's distraught face before giving his head a rough shake and focusing on where they were going.

He stopped them outside his dorm, keying in the code quickly before ushering Seifer inside and away from the doors sensors. He expected a crude quip or an angry demand to know what Squall thought he was doing but nothing came. The disappointment that had been brewing in his chest grew vast at his ex-sparring partners continued lack of response. A tinkle came down through his and Rinoa's bond, wondering where he was, why he was feeling this way and he instinctively shut her out without a moments thought, heartbeat speeding up. It wasn't easy, a knight shutting out his sorceress- it required an agreement on her end, one that she had allowed at his behest for some morsel of privacy when he should require it. She could still force it, pry into his mind for the answers she sought but he trusted her not to.

Occurring to him that his room-mate could waltz in at any moment, he set the door on no admittance and keeping his gaze lowered, moved to remove the bag from around Seifer's neck. He dumped it on the table, resting his hand on it for a drawn out minute before eventually turning to face Seifer. The blond's cyan eyes had been on Squall's hand laying on his bag but when he turned they flitted up to lock with his. As far back as Squall could currently remember, he had never seen Seifer's face so tightly closed as it was now. The self-proclaimed head of the Disciplinary Committee didn't hide behind blank expressions and inscrutable eyes- that was Squall's thing. No, Seifer hid his true emotions behind a sharp tongue and wicked smirk. Squall couldn't begin to figure out what the beaten man in front of him was thinking.

Without ever breaking eye-contact, Squall moved to stand before him, gaze probing, scanning the familiar broad features. He could hear the distant crackle of electricity, could almost taste it on his tongue, feel it lighting his nerve endings; but he knew it wasn't really there. Right then it sounded like Seifer's brain- not his- sizzling and frying under Ultimecia's touch. Seifer's gaze faltered, fell away from his and with it the connection. Silence reigned. He watched as the blond's eyes squeezed shut, caught it when a muscle jumped in his strong jaw.

_(...Fine.)_

Lingering momentarily, he pivoted, heading straight into his room with clipped footsteps. A gunblade case sat unassumingly on the end of his bed, worn with age and sentimentality. He hauled it up without preamble and returned to the living area to set it down with care beside Seifer's duffel. Opening it, he slid his hand around the unfamiliar handle of the gunblade and lifted it gently out of its confines. It was lighter than his own, something that never ceased to throw him off but it was every inch as beautiful. Light beams soared across the blade as he moved slowly to square off against Seifer and a raspy, low, humourless chuckle reached his ears.

“Every time I think I've got you figured out, Squall, you surprise me.”

The air left his lungs as he regarded Seifer's smirking face. For a second he thought he had finally drawn the elder man out of the deep recess the latter had retreated to but he hadn't. The smirk wasn't the way it was ingrained in his memory- the edge was gone, leaving it closer to a smile brittle with fatigue. It was Seifer, talking, looking at him and then in the blink of an eye, it wasn't. Nothing but an empty shell.

_(The feelings mutual.)_

“Finishing me off with my own blade,” Seifer mused quietly, his voice rough from lack of sleep. “It's fitting, I have to say...but you and me both know that I don't deserve this kind of mercy.”

_(You've really fallen so far that it would be a mercy to kill you?)_

Squall stayed silent, Lionheart's reassuring weight against his left hip and Hyperion ethereal in his loose grip.

“You're free to go,” he pointed out with his rapidly cracking veneer of unemotionalism. The blond's wan features grew wry at his words, gaze wandering aimlessly about the dorm.

“You know what they say, everything's subjective.”

Squall felt a gradual calm overcoming him the more Seifer talked and he said nothing, merely listening. With every word, the blond seemed to sound more and more like his old self, like the Seifer Squall was used to and knew how to handle. Except the difference that remained was the softer candid air encompassing them. No room for boisterous flaring rivalry here.

“I loved you, you know? Back at the orphanage,” Seifer confessed out of nowhere, catching him woefully off guard with the matter-of-fact yet wistful tone used. Despite the genuine serene nature of what he was saying, the smile slipped from the blond's face as he continued. “Little Squally. Hyne, I loved Quistis too...Sephie, even when she was being annoying as all hell...Irvine, he was always up for some mischief...Zell...not so much.” He almost rolled his eyes at the sudden sarcastic grin that curled up the corner of Seifer's lips but he was too taken by the flash of the man he used to know rising closer to the surface, almost breaking through.

“How much do you remember?” Squall asked tentatively, curiosity getting the better of him for the moment and his gaze riveted on his ex-sparring partner. Seifer's face darkened a tad, a flickering of emotion in his eyes that the brunette couldn't determine.

“Everything,” he answered simply, his expression knowing with a bitter taint. Squall's heart squeezed as though in a vice, slowly tightening. “Wish I didn't.” He could understand why given the crimes Seifer had committed- attempting to kill his foster siblings probably being at the top of the list- but he couldn't deny the stab of envy he had that Seifer's memories had been restored to him, where he and the other's had to fight to recall even a glimpse of a lighthouse; a ramshackle stone house; their beloved Matron.

_(Will I ever remember...?)_

“Enough of this,” the blond said decidedly, breaking into his thoughts with an expression completely devoid of anything but resigned fate. “Come on, Squall. Let's get this over with.”

_(Fool.)_

Seifer took a step forward, straightened his back and looked him dead in the eyes, expectant.

_(You said you remember everything, then you know me through and through.)_

The distance between them seemed to open up like a chasm amidst the charged silence.

_(I was never going to kill you. Not then. Not now.)_

He started forwards, watching the anticipation dancing across Seifer's tan features. He grabbed a hold of the blond's forearm, fingers like steel.

“Not here.”


	3. Chapter 3

The journey from the dorms to the training centre was a lot easier than Squall would've dared imagine, alarmingly so. Balamb Garden was like a ghost town, the two of them the sole spectres roaming the grounds. Everybody must either still be furiously debating Seifer's verdict up in the conference room or had flocked to the cafeteria for lunch. They had only come across two other people, a couple of eager, young, female cadets leaving the library, chatting away happily with stacks of textbooks piled high in their arms. Squall had acted fast, yanking Seifer down into a crouch together up against the wide round rim of the fountains, water gushing in his ears in tandem with his racing heart. Luckily the girls had begun to circle around the pathway in the same direction he and Seifer were heading and his breathing evened out as their voices gradually floated away.

“ _What, ashamed to be seen with the likes of me, Puberty Boy?”_ Was the kind of thing the brunette expected to hear from his ex-rival but Seifer didn't speak, merely stood once more and continued on their way at Squall's impatient prodding.

Once they were inside the monster's lair, amongst the fresh green foliage interspersed by the rickety old wooden walkways that networked across the shimmering dark blue pools of water, Squall guided his prisoner into the deepest most secluded corner of the centre. T-Rexaurs didn't typically venture to this part, which is why the gunbladers had often come here to spar. There was nothing more infuriating than a spar interrupted- they'd learned that early on.

“Look at this,” Seifer began in lowered tones, casting an abnormally fond gaze about their surroundings as though committing it all to memory. Squall wondered whether Seifer would ever use Guardian Forces again, or if he'd junction them deliberately in the hopes of losing a specific set of soul-crushing events in his life. “Executed by Hyperion, wielded by the hand of my life-long sparring partner and in our favourite spot to boot. Trust you to turn this into something ceremonial, Squall.”

_(Tch...whatever.)_

He watched Seifer for a quiet minute as the latter closed his eyes, tipped his head back and breathed in deeply. He didn't want to rush this, he wanted to relish and bask in it- there wouldn't be another chance- but they didn't have the time. As far as Cid and the Garden populace were concerned, Seifer Almasy was long on his way out of the country, never to be seen or heard from again. If Squall could have his way, they wouldn't be any the wiser.

He closed the distance between them and spun Seifer to get to the restraints encasing his wrists, ignoring the mild confusion vibrating off of the elder man. Breaking the seal, he tossed the stone block aside without a glance, taking Seifer's left hand and enclosing the latter's fingers around the handle of his gunblade. He lingered with his comparatively smaller hand curled around the blond's, making sure the weapon was securely in the other's grip before pacing the necessary amount of steps away. He turned and drew Lionheart, dropping into his preferred stance and stilling. Seifer split an incredulous glance between his gunblade and Squall, eyes narrowing slightly as the dim light of a fire ignited within his green-blue gaze.

“What the hell is this?” The blond half-demanded, voice low with a dangerous edge to it. Squall retained a cool relaxed air even as his fingertips started to buzz with adrenaline, answering in his usual bland murmur.

“A spar.”

_(What does it look like?)_

“A spar,” Seifer repeated, dead-pan. A golden eyebrow twitched, the embers in his ex-rival's eyes sparking like wood thrown into a furnace. “You wanna spar?”

“Evidently.”

Seifer's eyes dropped belatedly down to Hyperion, hand raising so he could better inspect his chosen weapon with something not far off apprehension ghosting across his strong features.

“You cleaned her,” fell from the blond's lips on a breath and Squall gave a nod, unflinching under the sudden acute scrutiny of his face.

_(Like she was my own.)_

“Yes.” He rolled his shoulders, flexing the muscles in his arms as he waited. Seifer eyed him for a long tense beat, looking down at Hyperion a second time before the fire that had started in his cat eyes began to simmer with exasperation.

“You serious right now, Squall?” The blond's tone was cutting, all traces of civility and friendliness gone from his face. “Have you lost it?! Get hit in the head one too many times or something?” Squall had to fight the scowl itching to crawl over his pale androgynous features, wondering why he bothered being surprised at Seifer's unwillingness to cooperative for once in his life. “I'm a war criminal! I almost just got the death sentence-” Seifer punctuated his statement with a stab into the air with Hyperion's razor sharp tip in the general direction of the place in which his trial had been held. “-and you wanna _spar_?! You know, I've always known there were a few screws loose up in that pretty head of yours- kin recognise kin and all that- but I never took you for plain stupid.”

_(_ There _you are.)_

The brunette's stomach knotted at the undeniably pleased morsel of a smile that threatened to break through his composure, brows knitting in concentration as he hastily pushed the urge back down to whence it came. Seifer paced sporadically from side to side as he ranted, eyes wide with furious disbelief.

“I-” The word choked in the blond's throat and Squall tilted his head to the side, watching the tempest of conflicting emotions flurry across his face.

“Say it,” Squall commanded in his quiet unassuming tones as Seifer ran a brusque hand down his face.

“Oh...” The elder man released a short mimicry of a chuckle, realisation dawning. His eyes returned to Squall's, sharp and unwavering. “Oh, you want me to say it, Squall? Okay, I _massacred_ dozens of people. I sent missiles raining down on Trabia Garden. I...” His teeth clenched, nostrils flaring. “... _tortured_... _you_.” Seifer's chest was heaving slightly under his pent up state and Squall stiffened reflexively in response, always opposing, never mirroring.

“Why?” The brunette questioned, his tone not giving anything away while his expression shifted into something akin to a challenge.

“Because she told me to,” Seifer stated, voice gruff and grim, a tinge of what Squall could only describe as self-hatred darkening the lines of his face.

“Why?”

“Because apparently I wanted to,” the blond shot back, visibly bristling in frustration.

“Why did you want to torture me?”

“Because you were better than me!” Squall's fingers tightened around Lionheart's hilt, outward appearance turning frigid as a result of the storm Seifer's words were brewing in his gut and chest.

_(Since when have you thought anyone better than you?)_

When the blond went on, his voice had dropped an octave but the self-hate seemed to intensify, his gaze looking past Squall now, into something unseen in the middle distance. “Because I wanted to be your equal...and she _convinced_ me that that wasn't all I wanted, oh no, I wanted to be _better_ than you.”

_(Seductive persuasion. Of course your one weakness would be something so mundane...)_

The silence that descended on them this time was far too bleak and vacant for Squall's liking, poison sinking into the veins that stood out beneath his fair skin.

“That's where you ended and she began.” He spoke with conviction, a stubborn tint to his grey-blue gaze when Seifer came back to himself, glaring heatedly straight into his eyes.

“Is it, Squall? Is it really?”

“You tell me,” the brunette batted back effortlessly, resisting the impulse to rise to Seifer's bait. He wasn't going to be the one to condemn and throw stones- the elder man was already punishing himself the world over from what Squall had seen during the trial. Seifer hadn't made it personal, he'd kept his answers concise and factual- nobody had wanted to hear pathetic, weightless apologies, they'd wanted to see him burn, remorseful or not; but Squall could tell the difference between a facade and pure apathy. Seifer had always been too hot-blooded for his own good- he couldn't switch his emotions off even if he'd wanted to, not like Squall strived to.

“Hyne, you don't get it, do you, Squall?” Seifer was forcing out now through his teeth, eyes well and truly ablaze with indignation and bafflement at the brunette's thought processes. “Do you really think the people out there give a shit about the how or why?!”

_(I understand it perfectly, Seifer.)_

_(But...)_

“I do.”

_(Care.)_

Squall watched the blond's face scrunch up further in mystification for a beat before abruptly smoothing out with a flash of burgeoning intuition within his eyes.

“So that's what this is really about. Guilt.” Squall grit his teeth at the unabashed accusation, struggling to keep righteous fury from boiling over. Seifer pushed back his lank locks, gripping roughly and looking up as though asking Hyne to give him strength. “You found out that we were all little orphans together once upon a time and now you've gotten it into your head that you somehow failed me.” He dropped his gaze back to Squall's, expression unrelenting and brokering no arguments. “Well let me clear that up for you right now. You didn't fail anybody. Not you, not Quistis. I brought this all on myself. Yeah, she manipulated me and yeah, there was magic involved but that doesn't change a Hyne-damned thing. _I_ killed all those people; _I_ tortured you.” He cut a slice through the air with Hyperion as he spoke, his free hand balled into a shaking fist. Squall's lungs felt like they were being crushed, lips parting a sliver to suck in quick bursts of oxygen through his teeth. Seifer's voice lowered to a disquieting uncharacteristic rumble. “Everybody within a twenty mile radius knew I didn't belong here...and no lost memories were ever gonna stop me from going down the path I did.”

_(Our childhood means that little to you?)_

_(...So be it.)_

Squall regained his fighting stance, which he had subconsciously eased up from, will like iron. “Fix your stance.” Seifer raised his eyebrows, taking a long moment to assess Squall's leaden expression.

“Forget it,” he uttered finally, tongue laced with the exhaustion that clung to him like a thick blanket. “I'm not doing this with you.” Something snapped in Squall at that, at the blatant dismissal. Before he knew it, his legs were charging forwards, arms raising his gunblade for an attack. He leapt off his right foot and swung Lionheart down in an elegant arc, only for her to impact grassy earth with a dull thud. Seifer had dived out of the way, springing to his feet and staring him down almost in admonishment.

“Let it go, Squall.”

The brunette refused to listen, running at Seifer like a freight train with no brakes. The blond didn't dodge this time, instead lifted Hyperion to collide with Squall, their blades gnashing against each other.

“I said let it go!”

“What?” Squall ground out frostily, well and truly at the end of his tether as he threw his whole weight against Seifer, forcing the latter back a mere step.

“Me-!” Seifer replied with renewed frustration as he returned the favour, causing Squall to stumble back from him. Squall felt a punch to the gut at Seifer's brazen response, blood pumping with a desperation he had never experienced before.

_(...This_ is _letting you go.)_

“Stop talking and fight me!” He blurted without thinking, biting his tongue the second the words had left his mouth, enough to taste tangy iron. He caught the flinch in Seifer's reaction, despised the suggestion of pity that twisted the elder man's lips down. It only lasted for a few seconds before the blond's features morphed completely, feet jumping him back a distance and gunblade arm rising, on par with his broad shoulders. Squall took in the echo of a smirk now adorning his ex-rival's face, his veins singing with the old familiar anticipation he had come to crave.

“You wanna spar, huh?” Seifer taunted, a shadow of his former self but with enough heat behind the words to appease Squall's now lofty expectations. “Come on then, Squall. Bring it!” He rolled his eyes when Seifer beckoned to him with his index finger, grin widening a fraction.

_(Whatever.)_

He surged forward, muscle memory giving way to fluid movement. They ducked and dived at well aimed swipes, dancing the same dance they'd begun eleven or so years ago. This, _this_ would never change- life and scorching energy flooding their limbs, channelling up to the ends of their extended arms, meaning to connect, to draw blood but never fatally injure. Through lunges and side steps they followed each other, perfect synchronisation achieved only in their inability to catch one another; a weapon cutting through air half a second after a body had slid out of its way, legs twirling to keep their backs invulnerable. When their blades did kiss it was in whirling wide motions interwoven with rare bold clashes that brought their faces inches from one another, only for one of them to spin away again.

Squall backed off, slinging his SEED uniform jacket to the floor haphazardly and tearing out of his white shirt, buttons flying. Sweat drenched the tank top he wore beneath, his arms sighing with relief where the mild breeze from the air conditioning touched them.

“That's gonna cost you,” Seifer commented, laughter lines creasing the corners of his eyes where they lingered on the ruined shirt abandoned in the dirt. They were both panting noisily but neither paid any mind to it, Squall rotating his right wrist before heading back into an attack.

Their eyes never left each other, breaking away merely when one of them circled out of range of an efficiently timed blow, matching the speed. There was a certain kind of mania that lit Seifer's cyan eyes when they were battling it out as they currently were- something that Squall had never doubted for a second was glowing in his own stormy skies. It was the amalgamation of little constants like these that made Seifer Squall's chosen sparring partner all those years ago. The speed of their bodies and reflexes, the height of their swings and the strength behind them were all ingrained in each others mind, along with their complementary fighting styles and varying tendencies to try risky manoeuvres.

They'd trained together for so long that there nearly wasn't a single move that the other didn't see coming, and yet neither grew tired of the predictability of it all. Most likely that was down to Seifer's obnoxious habit of throwing caution to the wind every so often, doing something unexpected in lieu of taking Squall off guard; but it worked, instigating Squall to veer out of his usual patterns and pull off a mean feat of his own. It was much the same way their relationship worked outside of fighting- Seifer's spontaneity triggering uncommon reactions out of methodical Squall.

Put simply, Squall relied on Seifer. He relied on him in a way he couldn't bring himself to rely on anybody else in his solitary life. The events of the past war had set him firmly adrift- Seifer wasn't there to depend on any more- to keep him grounded- and it wasn't the case of resorting to a dirty trick to get the upper hand, it had been to pull the rug from beneath Squall's feet and disappear into a shadow of darkness. It hadn't just shaken his beliefs about Seifer, it had turned them to dust; but then he found that he wasn't alone on that raft after all. He didn't have Seifer with him but he had Quistis and Zell, Selphie and Irvine. He had Rinoa.

He felt adrift now, but this time there was no fear or pressure, there was no responsibility, it was just him and the man he had spent endless years learning the physicality of. His ticks, his tells, his mannerisms and where to find the loose chinks in his armour. Time seemed to slow down, lush green backdrop blurring and falling away until all that was left was the two of them, Seifer's weary but nevertheless enthusiastic grin flitting across his vision. He tampered down the content smile of his own that was struggling to shine through, but he could tell that Seifer was reading it in his eyes.

They had been granted this small eternity, spending it the best way they knew how but like most good things, it had to come to an end. Seifer was in worse shape than he normally would be, weakened from the wars final few days of battle and the obvious insomnia he had been suffering from. The blond would know it instantly if Squall slowed down, started going easy on him purely to prolong their spar. He would resent it as much as Squall would if the tables were turned, so the latter had no choice but to finish it himself. With a few choice flicks of his wrists he managed to disarm Seifer, Hyperion spinning end over end into the grass and stuck the point of Lionheart at the blond's throat, scraping against the flushed humid skin it found there. The corners of Seifer's lips evened out into a disarmingly satisfied smile, breath still coming as fast as Squall's.

“You know, you were right, Squall,” the blond panted, placing his hands on his hips as they both fought to catch their breath. Squall lowered his gunblade minutely, hooking it back at his waist and wetting his dry lips. “We needed this.” The brunette nodded once absently in agreement, pushing his hair, which was shaggier than normal and dripping from the exertion, back from his reddened face. A couple of stray clumps of his bangs fell forward while the others clung to their newfound purchases by the moisture.

_(Finally learned the importance of closure then?)_

Shaking out his arms and appreciating the throbbing burn in his biceps and triceps, he reopened his eyes and rescued his discarded bits of uniform from the ground. Shrugging into his destroyed shirt, he threw the jacket over his shoulder and watched as Seifer wiped off Hyperion's blade on his sleeve. He didn't know if it was because he was so unused to seeing the blond in his cadet garb, but the navy looked wrong on him, even despite the healthy pink now colouring his ashen complexion. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the temporary amusement bubbling up to his mouth, mood steadily cooling the longer he stood there. Tightening his two fingers in the collar of his jacket, he turned to begin the trek back out of the centre, legs languid.

“What, that's it?” Came Seifer's voice trailing after him, laced with the type of calm that belied other stronger feelings. His feet slowed to a pause but he didn't look back. “Had your fill and now you're leaving?” It was a statement more than anything else so Squall didn't deem it with an answer.

“You need to get out of here,” he said instead, returning the calm tone of voice. “Don't get caught.” With that, he continued on his way, sensing the daggers flying at his back as though they were solid, not imaginary. The last thing he heard echoed about his skull long after he was gone; sardonic, venomous, defeated.

“Fine- nice knowing you!”

He didn't immediately seek anyone out, not even Rinoa. He wanted to be alone so he returned to the dorms, something suspiciously like melancholy snaking around his shoulders and neck. He saw it the second he entered, a vicious spike to the chest assaulting his senses. He stood rooted to the spot, fingering the icy patch above his heart where Ultimecia had made an attempt on his life, but it was the long healed scar between his brows that ached. Seifer's duffel bag lay forgotten on his table, woeful and sagging with its telling meagre contents.

_(How could I have forgotten it...?)_

_(...Because you wanted to keep it...)_

_(...A memento.)_

_(Nothings changed at all.)_

_(I'm still that snivelling child left abandoned at the Orphanage.)_

With trembling, agitated movements, Squall took the bag into his room and shoved it as far to the back of his closet as was possible. He stared at it, kneeling on the hard floor for seconds that soon turned into minutes. There was a chill in his bones when he felt the familiar tickle of Rinoa calling along the bond. _Are you okay?_ No. No, he didn't think that he was; but he would do his damnedest to change that. Responding to his sorceress' inquisitiveness with warm reassurances, he got to his feet and firmly closed the door on Seifer's belongings. He'd keep them safe there until the blond came looking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2s song on the playlist is 11am :)

_**Part II: Rewinding** _

_**~Six Months Later~** _

It was midnight as Squall made his way back from his office to his dorm. Nobody was around, having already retired for the day or amongst friends crowded around a square table for a hand of Triple Triad. He pulled his well-worn leather jacket closer around him as he neared his dorm, the echo of the fountains in the general lobby echoing after him in his wake.

It had been six months since Seifer had left- he hated that he thought of it in those terms. Not six months after the war, not six months after the defeat of Ultimecia, not six months since he and Rinoa had confessed their love for each other. No, his thoughts always drifted back to Seifer, one way or the other. He felt tethered to the older man somehow, a string taut almost to snapping at the distance now wedged between them, fraying.

He was already picturing Seifer's old duffel bag where it lay in wait at the furthest corner of his closet. The first thing he did on arrival home everyday was to check if it was still there- to make sure that Rinoa hadn't come across it in her search through her myriad of clothing for one particular dress. To make sure that Seifer himself hadn't finally returned for it, sneaking in while he was out like some kind of phantom thief. The truth that he doubted less and less each time he returned to find the bag still there where he'd hid it, was that Seifer hadn't come back- not for the bag, not for anything- and he never planned to.

To this day, Squall couldn't figure out why that thought opened up a deep chasm in his stomach. Seifer had been exiled- he was strictly prohibited from ever coming back to Balamb; and yet it was impossible for Squall to pretend that he wasn't in some small way expecting it, waiting for it to happen. After all that's how Squall's life had always been, waiting for things to happen to him, waiting for everything to come to a head and hastening to scrabble the pieces back together in the fallout. There was nothing he wanted, at least nothing he wanted enough to go out and search for. The one thing he did want- the one thing he had come to the conclusion of over the past six months was the one thing he couldn't have. He wanted to see Seifer again. He wanted to spar, he wanted to look at the blond and see him easily following along Squall's train of thought, he wanted to see that he was still breathing; but Seifer had vanished into the ether, leaving behind no trace nor clue as to his whereabouts.

_(I can't believe I miss him.)_

_(...But I do.)_

_(No other way to describe this feeling...)_

Seifer had always been too quick at leaving the rest of them behind in the dust, wanting to grow up too fast. He'd got what he wanted in spades while Squall was stuck here holding back, unable to flee the nest. Sighing mutely, he stopped before his rooms to key in the code and enter. He'd upgraded to a high-ranking SEED dorm, outright refusing the luxury suite down the hall reserved for the Garden Commander, much to Rinoa's initial dismay. Sometimes it still came up in conversation, Rinoa batting him a teasing comment about the grand size of the rooms with more than enough space for Squall to slink away into, retreating to his own company. Squall would simply tilt her a hint of a smile and remind her that the SEED dorms were big enough to house his solitary self.

Occasionally, he found his feet treading down the age-old path to his shared cadet dorm until he remembered it didn't belong to him any more. Seifer's rooms had been three doors down on the opposite side, now occupied by a squirrelly looking cadet with tape securing his glasses together at the bridge of his nose. Whenever he saw the kid, he saw Seifer in his minds eye scoffing derogatorily and looking to the heavens.

“ _Is that the kind of mettle you guys are letting in nowadays?”_

_(The jokes on you, kid knows three different ways to incapacitate a man with only his bare hands.)_

He returned to the present as his door slid shut behind him, his instincts kicking in sharply. He stilled, narrowed eyes going to the cream leather overnight bag unceremoniously dumped on his hardly used grey sofa. There was someone else here. Crouching down a tad, he soundlessly removed his heavy boots and set them down by the door, gliding his feet across the living area to his bedroom. The door was shut but he could see dim light beaming through the crack above the floor. Sliding up the wall adjacent, he carefully equipped Lionheart and bent his elbows up so that the tip was ready to strike at whoever came through. Calming his breathing and heart rate enough to hear beyond it, he listened intently for what felt like minutes but were in actuality mere seconds. The door opened casually, a woman's form padding out over the threshold before her motion was cut off by the light kiss of the edge of his blade. A startled scream met his ears, sending a jolt of recognition through him that was distracting enough for the woman to reach out and switch on the light.

“Squall! What are you doing?”

He dropped his gunblade back to his side and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead with a long exhale. Rinoa appraised him openly, clad in stylish pastel blue capri pants and one of his threadbare black jumpers, which sleeves almost completely engulfed her hands.

“Didn't you sense me?” She asked with a worried frown that made her dark eyes look larger. He walked past her into his bedroom to hang Lionheart on the right notch of the single bed, obscured by the lamp-lit bedside table.

“You didn't tell me you were coming,” he admonished once he'd turned back to face her, deflecting her question out of a concerning habit that had him crossing his arms tightly. She was leaning in the doorway, mirroring his defensive position but a warm smile encompassed her delicate features as her foot toed at the dull blue and coral checked carpet. Walking around bare foot was one thing she could be grateful for in this high-rank dorm; the lesser SEED still had cold linoleum to contend with.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she confessed softly, looking up at him through her long black lashes and he was swamped by an overwhelming surge of love that he found disconcerting to register as purely second-hand. Perhaps she'd been gone too long this time. Wordlessly, he forced his scowl to lighten and opened his arms for her. Within half a heartbeat she'd bounded over to him with a delighted giggle and pressed her face into his neck, arms crushing him as if he might disappear. As her floral scent flooded his senses, he genuinely felt his muscles easing up, body moulding to hers in a calming, grounding moment that felt real despite the intangible magic filling the air. Everything always did feel lighter when Rinoa was around; like he was floating on the waters surface rather than weighed down to the ocean bed.

“I've really missed you, Squall,” she whispered tenderly and his stormy eyes trailed over her head towards the in-built closet beside the door.

“Me too,” he responded quietly, shutting his eyes as her feelings flourished along their bond, sending a slight shudder through his limbs. He had missed her, missed having his thoughts too busy with making sure she was happy to linger on anything else. His eyes stuttered open at the feeling of her dainty hand cradling his cheek, coaxing him to look down at her. He began to frown in confusion before he noted the way her lids drooped to half-mast, gaze shining with affection. He dipped to bestow a chaste kiss on her lips, hesitating when she didn't pull away, instead swiping more firmly at his mouth. In a resigned practised manner, he reciprocated, pushing back against hers and parting his lips briefly enough for her to get a taste of him. It was wet, clean, routine and about as much as he could stand. He leaned away with a faint indulgent smile before she could become too enraptured and he too stiff and formal. She grinned a bit, eyes searching his in the hopes of prolonging the moment but he could read the disappointment there, in the way she hugged her torso when he disentangled himself from her hold.

“Hungry?” He inquired as he gently brushed past her to head for the kitchen. It wasn't exactly an excuse for distance, he'd barely eaten anything at lunch time, opting for a bout in the training centre to flex his muscles. Detouring to the coat pegs beside the front door as an afterthought, he removed his jacket and hung it up.

“You haven't eaten?” She questioned in that higher pitched motherly tone she sometimes got as she followed after him. “It's past twelve, Squall.”

“I just got in,” he said with an absent shrug, scanning the contents of his fridge for a minute before pulling out the things he needed to throw together a quick sandwich. He busied himself at the counter, glancing over at where Rinoa hovered, watching his hands work. She seemed nervous somehow, her hands more fidgety than normal but Squall didn't ponder it, knowing she'd talk if there was something on her mind.

“So, um, aren't you going to ask me how Timber is?” He hummed non-committally for her to continue as he sliced his sandwich in half, hunting down a plate in the cupboard below. “Well, I don't want to get ahead of myself but I think the trading negotiations with Galbadia are _finally_ starting to come to a close. Nobody wants it dragging out to a year but you know, I think one year is better than, say five. The factions are even planning to start talks on nominating a mayor next week. I think somebody elected by the people is the only way to go though- rioting is the last thing Timber needs right now. Who knew peace could be so hard to achieve...? You'll never guess what Watts said to me the other day-” She paused as Squall picked up his plate of half-eaten food and freshly filled glass of water to move into the living area. He sat down at the dinning table, focusing his gaze on Rinoa as she placed herself across from him, her face animated and her posture inclined towards him, even as his attention had long since waned. “He said I should be an ambassador for Timber! Can you imagine that? Me, an ambassador!” She laughed brightly and Squall sent her an amused quirk of his lips before taking a long draw from his drink to wash down the bread.

“Ambassador Rinoa Heartilly,” he murmured in encouragement as he leant back in his chair, fingering the edge of the table.

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?” Rinoa remarked with a twinkle in her eye and a tap to her chin as though in contemplation. She rested her elbows on the table to prop her face in her hands, gazing at him and returning the fondness he had been exuding by tenfold. The sudden force of her emotions was dizzying and it took him some time to recover, soothing over their connection like a salve. The influx of her thoughts and feelings didn't make him sick as it did in the past, but whenever they'd been apart for a time there was always an adjustment period once they reunited. Squall suspected the reaction had been and was still in part, if not mostly due to his repressed nature. Allowing himself to feel his own emotions was difficult as it was, so to throw somebody else's on top of that was disorientating to say the least.

For someone like Seifer, he imagined it came naturally. The blond was constantly receiving and releasing his feelings regardless of depth- the only problem lying with whoever he expelled those feelings onto. He pictured Seifer and Rinoa screaming at each other, their ires building and converging until inevitable explosion. Seifer could never be subservient to somebody like Rinoa. She was too young, too green, too impulsive- too much like himself where it came to the latter. Squall wondered if his ex-sparring partner had lost that trait somewhat during the war. If he hadn't, what was left could only mean that Seifer never felt even the slightest compulsion to see him and hence, never acted on it.

“It really was a long month,” Rinoa sighed, mercifully disrupting his sombre train of thought. “I don't think I'll stay away so long again- its bad enough living on two different continents. I really wish you'd consider applying for that transfer to Galbadia Garden.” Squall glanced up at that, the sulky cast to her expression putting him instantly on edge despite the fact that he could feel her calm.

“We discussed this.” The mere idea of living in a Garden other than his own was inconceivable and it wasn't because his orphanage family were here, not solely. He couldn't see himself living anywhere else than Balamb- maybe Centra but even then he didn't _want_ to and that was the root of the matter. He had no desire to move to another country, to have to get used to new surroundings, new people, new expectations. Rinoa wanted him closer, would have him move to Timber if she could, but as the last six months had proven, it wasn't necessary. He didn't _need_ to be living with her, closer to her, the bond remained strong and intact either way. Its true, he hadn't sensed her on his arrival home, hadn't so much as recognised her bag on his entry, but the former was simply because he hadn't reached out for her, seeking her presence and the latter could be explained away by it being newly bought or him just not taking interest in her belongings and what they looked like.

“I miss you! I hate not being able to see you when I want.” Rinoa's voice was imploring, her fingers spread but he could tell that she knew she was fighting a losing battle, a battle she'd lost already the first time she'd suggested G-Garden as an option. “I hate sleeping alone, especially when I know you're here doing the same. I bet you didn't even notice I stopped calling you in the night, you never answer anyway.”

“I didn't know you were still having trouble sleeping.”

“Of course you didn't know,” she responded in a tone that implied that that was her entire point. He couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose, knowing full well that he was the problem in this equation. They were supposed to be a couple, but Squall didn't seem to have it in him to act as anything but a Knight towards her. He looked up when she pushed back out of her chair, rounding the table to swoop into his lap and encircle his neck with her arms. “Squall, I love you and I don't want to fight. It's just so hard being away from you, especially when...” She trailed off, biting her lip and looking deep into his eyes for any hint of understanding. He rubbed her back dutifully, monitoring the shift in her emotions and attempting a smile as her fingers brushed his golden brown locks back from his face.

“I'll visit you next time,” he heard himself say in a weak attempt at compromise. “I'm sure we can manage to see each other every weekend that way.” He sounded like somebody else to his own ears but a sweet smile bloomed across Rinoa's face and she gave a nod. He had to school away his expression at what he'd just agreed to, putting the incoming discomfiture on hold.

“I'd like that,” she whispered gratefully, pecking his lips. “And I think you will too- you're always cooped up in here. The others say you hardly ever go down to Balamb.” He felt himself scowl, looking away and wondering why everyone was so bothered with what he did in his free time. He didn't pry into their business. “Squall,” Rinoa chuckled, regaining his attention and cupping his face. “I love you.”

He knew what was coming from the way she'd said it, saw it a mile away from the way her dark tellingly dilated eyes lowered to his mouth. The kiss started out innocent and tentative, but the longer he endured it, half-heartedly returning the favour the more eager she became. When their tongues slid together in the familiar way he'd grown accustomed to, he felt a jab of want to his gut; but it wasn't his. Her fingers entwined in his hair as her mouth meshed with his more insistently, begging for more. His breathing grew restricted even as he attempted to go with the flow, to let it go on for just a bit longer before caving- for her sake. He kept his hands on her back, resisting the urge to ball them into fists and frowning in concentration. When she let go of his hair to run her hands down his chest, slipping beneath his white t-shirt, he reflexively gripped her wrists to stop her.

“Rinoa,” he said quietly in warning after tearing his face away, his breath stilted and his body as tense as a spring. “I can't.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to ignore the spike of frustration and hurt that came hurtling along their bond.

“Squall,” she breathed out, taking his face in her hands again, her thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “I know you think you don't...that you don't have any kind of... _drive_ ; but I know you enjoy kissing me and-”

“I can't,” he repeated emphatically, looking her straight in the eye as he reigned in the growing agitation building within him. Rinoa looked startled for a few blinks of an eye before something akin to determination shot across her reddened features.

“You've never _tried_!” Her hands dropped to his shoulders and gave him a squeeze as he swallowed, guilt consuming his budding agitation. “You think you're, I don't know, asexual or something because you've never wanted to be with anyone before- never wanted to be intimate in that way but you want _me_ , don't you? Isn't that why we're together, because we love each other? And want to share our lives together?” Squall didn't know what to say, his mind reeling with everything she was asking, with every possible way this could end with her leaving him.

At his silence, Rinoa's expression flickered with impatience and he felt his breathing worsen. Feeling cornered, he abruptly lifted her up and off him as he stood, pacing towards the sofa and raking his hands through his hair.

“Either you love me or not, Squall.” Her voice was low and distraught but it carried to his ears as though she had shouted it. An image of her on the day of Seifer's trial came to him, face crumpled and tear stained, the combination of the remembered onslaught of her feelings and the ones she was currently transferring to him pushed against his gag reflex. He pressed a fist to his mouth. “Do you still love me?” He could hear the tell-tale signs of tears in her voice now, sending him over the edge.

“Yes.” He didn't quite raise his voice but the strength of the word was absolute and laced with a cold fever that seemed to reverberate around the room.

_(But I'm not in love with you.)_

He'd figured that out no more than two months after the war had ended but she had never pressured him like she was doing now- and that was precisely why they had worked together. Or so he thought. He suffered kisses that didn't span any longer than a minute, took her out for dinner, shared the same bed whenever she visited him and she had never once complained about their non-existent sex life. He'd assumed what they had was enough for her and so he didn't feel the need to break things off in the romantic sense, thinking it would overcomplicate their relationship; and more acutely, fearing it would cause her to leave. He tried to explain to her one night a couple of months back that he didn't experience urges of a sexual nature, that he never had and probably never would. He recalled stumbling over the words, feeling all but mortified and exposed under her kind gaze but sensing a need in the air to make sure they were on the same page.

He knew it wasn't just absent sexual desire though; he knew he wasn't in love with her because he could go almost an entire workday without sparing her a single thought, not unless she happened to call him up or send an inquisitive _how are you?_ through their personal mind link. She wasn't the first thing he thought of in the morning, nor the last thing he thought about at night. He loved her, but she wasn't any more special to him than his foster-siblings were and when it really came down to it- defying all concepts of how strong the bond between a sorceress and her knight was supposed to be- he would put his pseudo-family's lives before hers every time.

_(I spend more time having imaginary conversations with Seifer than I do thinking about her.)_

_(Maybe I'm losing it...)_

_(...Maybe I never had it to begin with.)_

He couldn't tell her the truth. If he did, especially after so many months of being a couple there was no doubt in his mind that she would leave.

_(Just like he did.)_

_(Shut up!)_

No matter which way he looked at it, she would leave and there was no telling whether she would ever come back or not. The chances were she'd break the bond and once that happened, assuming he didn't truly lose his mind, she would have no reason to stick around. Why would she? He really would have nothing to offer her after that. Arms came around him then, hugging him back against a chest and he felt a blanket of foreboding instantly weighing him down.

“All I'm asking, Squall, is for us to try- for _you_ to try,” Rinoa said in what was supposed to be a soothing tone, her words muffled slightly by where they were pressed up against his left shoulder blade. “If it turns out you really aren't...that way inclined, then it won't matter. I'll still love you anyway.”

“If it doesn't matter then what's the point?” He could hear the grate in his voice, was fighting hard to relax and unlock his muscles but it was no use. He was mentally teetering, waiting to plunge.

“I need to know,” she answered almost matter of factly but the false note didn't go unnoticed. “And so do you. I won't say I won't be disappointed if...but we should make sure- this could just be another obstacle we need to work through and in the long run, this could bring us closer than ever.” There was a smile in her voice now and he could sense a giddiness rising within her, clashing wrongly with his own emotions. He shut his eyes as resignation began to settle uneasily on his shoulders.

“ _She'll leave, dumbass.”_

_(This isn't right. I shouldn't lie to her, not like this...)_

“ _Hyne, are you telling me I should've been calling_ you _chickenwuss this whole time? Man the fuck up, Squall.”_

“Fine.” When he reopened his eyes, he knew they were steely and harsh but there was no helping it. Uncurling one of his fists and feeling the blood rush to the crescents he'd indented in his palms, he reached to loosely grasp her hand.

“Really? Are you sure?” Any other time, her excitement would be infectious.

_(Now you're bothered about what I want?)_

He shook his head roughly at the unbidden bitter thought and lead her into his bedroom, his closet piercing his back as though it had eyes. As much as his will was set, when he dropped her hand to yank off his t-shirt, his hands were shaking. It was imperceptible enough that he was positive Rinoa wouldn't see it, but he could and he felt an unbridled rush of self-loathing that he had never felt before. He withdrew into himself, away from her constant semi-conscious probing; if she had registered the disconnect, she didn't say anything, instead following his suit in undressing.

“I guess that answers the question of do we undress each other or...?” She attempted to joke but it fell flat, even without her being able to feel his flash of annoyance. Nothing about this was funny, not to him. Right now, he may as well be standing in front of a firing squad, his adoptive family watching in horror from the sidelines. He'd been wrong before, Seifer would have told him to man up but not by going along with this charade. He would have told him to tell her the truth and end things, regardless of whether she abandoned him or not. He didn't know what was stopping him from doing that any more; maybe it was unshattering loyalty induced by the bond, unwilling to let her down as a knight. Perhaps there was a part deep down inside of him that wanted to be proven right- that he'd always have this physical safety net to fall back on. One barrier nobody would ever be able to take away from him. Nowadays he could pass off a smile, sometimes the barest hint of a chuckle but he would never be totally exposed; that _was_ something he wanted and probably always would.

Both down to their underwear, Rinoa tugged on his arm lightly to return him to the present, pitching up on her tip-toes to kiss him. His stomach dropped like it always did but he persevered, eyebrows pulling together sharply as he wrapped her in his arms to steady her. The sensation of her long dark locks scratching and feathering against his bare chest was strange but it was a welcome distraction from the taste and feel of her tongue dipping in and out of his mouth. This wasn't going to work. Breaking away, he pulled back his covers and guided her until she got the hint and lay down, scooting towards the wall so that he could join her.

It was unnerving how quiet she was being- he didn't think he'd ever heard her go this long without making some kind of noise. He couldn't help but look at her face as he moved to lie on top of her, noting the hot flush to her features and the red swollen appearance of her lips. She nodded a bit in encouragement, hitching her legs up and parting her lips in obvious anticipation the second his lower half wedged between her thighs. Squall felt unnaturally cold against her warm body, momentarily not knowing what to do before deciding to just get on with it. He quickly removed her underwear, foregoing her bra completely and sliding the lacy scrap of material off her smooth legs. He avoided looking down at her sex by burying his face in her shoulder, feeling her jump on a gasp when his fingers touched her, examining her, learning her. He hadn't imagined how wet and slippery and fleshy it would feel, nausea swishing around in his stomach once more. He grit his teeth against it and tried to focus on the way her chest was heaving against his, heartbeat pounding into his skin and loud breathing stirring strands of his hair.

He pushed at her with his index finger, searching for the hole he knew would be there, digging in when he found it. Rinoa moaned keenly, the sound penetrating his eardrum as he reluctantly began to pepper her neck with open kisses. He couldn't take another second of her mouth but her body couldn't kiss him back.

“Oh, Squall...” she mewled out as he took up stroking his finger in and out of her in swift blunt motions, keeping tabs on her reactions to make sure he didn't take a wrong step. She didn't seem to register his undeniable inexperience or the fact that his body was screaming with the impulse to run, merely clung tighter to him, releasing noise upon noise of pleasure. He added a second finger, in dire need of speeding things up and made himself paw weakly at one of her breasts, causing her to bend her arms back to unhook her bra and toss it off the side. Her breasts were of average size, maybe a little bigger but Squall had no basis for comparison. Her nipples were dark against her pale skin and erect against his hand as he palmed her right breast. As with the rest of her body, it was too soft, too supple, too delicate. He was always having to be careful not to hurt her, indefinitely treading on eggshells. As his mouth descended on her nipple, tonguing experimentally at it, he slipped his free hand into his boxers and cupped himself.

_(Shit.)_

He wasn't hard. Nothing of the past several minutes had done anything to stimulate and arouse him. How was he supposed to do the deed without an erection?

_(Wasn't that what you wanted?)_

_(Yes...but...)_

He'd never once stopped to consider how humiliating this situation could turn out. He felt his face heat up at the prospect before something worse occurred to him. They had got so far that even if he was to strike out now, she would have renewed hope for them. She'd want to _try_ again. He felt his face drain of blood.

_(...And if I do manage to pull this off, she'll expect sex to become a regular thing.)_

“ _Having a little trouble there, Puberty Boy?”_

He could see Seifer smirking so vividly in his minds eye that he felt a familiar scowl darken his features. Resting his forehead on Rinoa's chest, he simultaneously sped up his fingers inside her and started rubbing his flaccid member. Imagining Seifer's face had his mind receding deep into memories he still retained, recalling their random encounters, sparring, rolling his eyes at crude hand gestures he'd received during class. Mocking, always mocking. If he were Seifer, he'd already be inside Rinoa, rutting away most likely considering the blond's animalistic characteristics. The sick feeling rose up again at the picture of Seifer and Rinoa going at it and he gripped himself more firmly, urging himself to harden. He remembered them five or six years younger, jogging in tank tops and joggers.

“ _So, we're gonna be fellow gunbladers, huh? You know what that means, right?”_

“ _Not interested.”_

“ _It_ means _...we're gonna be rivals.”_

(...Whatever.)

“ _Gonna have to be faster than that to keep up with me, Squally-boy.”_

Since that moment there'd always been some form of unspoken acknowledgement between them, of respect or something akin to it, of understanding. He saw Seifer laughing away at something Fūjin or Raijin had said, pausing to lift his gaze as Squall past by their table in the cafeteria; something coming alive in his green-blue eyes and a wicked smile quirking up his lips, taunting. Distractedly glancing down at himself, Squall realised that during his reverie his manhood had finally begun to erect, pulsing faintly within his grasp. He stilled, stopping all movement as confusion threatened to swallow him whole.

“What's wrong, Squall? You're doing great- keep going.” Rinoa's breathy, outright begging voice rebounded in the silence and he started slightly. Continuing in his ministrations, he settled against her as his mind reeled. He'd been thinking about Seifer, nothing else, and yet his body was responding. He thought of the older man's tan cat-like features, the manic glee in his eyes when they sparred. The blood in his veins began to sing with adrenaline, possibly even excitement as arousal gradually overtook his body. He saw a vision of Seifer showering in the stool beside his, all broad contours and thick muscle, lifting his face to the steamy water with his eyes closed and mouth hanging open, smoothing his wet blond strands back from his face.

_(Shit...)_

_(How can I...?)_

“ _Squall...”_

The whisper almost sounded real and he turned his face aside instinctively, keeping his eyes shut tight. He could almost feel breath dancing across the nape of his neck, his cheek; a mouth hovering above his. A sudden fire flushed through his body, his hairs standing on end and he looked down to gauge his state. He was still not fully hard but enough was enough.

“Condom.” His voice was unexpectedly hoarse and unhinged as he spoke the command, sitting back on his heels and ignoring the jarring reaction within him at seeing Rinoa beneath him. She was panting as she leaned over and fished for one somewhere at the back of the draw in his bedside table. She looked inherently pleased underneath the wanton cast to her expression and Squall felt guilt tie around his neck like a noose. She boldly reached for his member to slide on the protection but all he could think about was how unlike Seifer's hands hers felt. His ex-rival's hands would be rough with callouses and larger, his touch demanding. Even closing his eyes it was difficult to pretend it was anyone but Rinoa's dainty, slender fingers around him. He was already pre-empting the softening of his sex.

_(It's_ his _hands.)_

It struck him how easy it was to tell himself that. He felt like he was suffering the effects of a concussion- confusion, sickness, disorientation all warring against each other.

_(Since when have I...?)_

“ _Squall...”_

Phantom hands came up to rest on his hips and he shuddered, watching distantly as Rinoa lay back down, bare before him. Without further prompt, he lined himself up with her hole, the hands still possessive on his hips, squeezing. If he looked down he would see they were only Rinoa's so he didn't. Breathing labouredly, he awkwardly pushed at her entrance, thrusting deep inside when he eventually felt some give. A grunt left his lips at the tight heat enveloping him, pressing his face into the pillow above her shoulder and jerking his hips once to get the rest of the way in. Rinoa had cried out at the penetration but her legs spread wider to accommodate him and her nails dragged down his back in need.

_(They're_ his _nails...)_

_(...Chewed and bitten down.)_

“ _Come on, Squall.”_

Breath against his left ear again, so close to being tangible. He pulled his hips back before driving back in with another grunt, this one tinged with lust and desperation.

“ _That's right, Squall. Just like that...”_

He had Rinoa mewling in his other ear as he picked up a steady firm rhythm and he struggled under the effort to tune her out. Strong hands ran up his back to his shoulders, one knotting into his hair while the other encircled his biceps. Teeth tugged at the sensitive skin of his neck, mouth sucking relentlessly and a hot tongue lapping over the quickly sore-reddening area. He grunted and his head went back, lower half picking up speed. He wasn't going to last very long, with how narrow Rinoa's walls were around him, milking his member with each thrust inside her. Raising to balance on his hands, fingers going numb with how fiercely he was gripping the bed sheet, he made a mistake of opening his eyes and looking down at her. She was already gazing up at him in pure awe and desire through dark half-lidded eyes and it felt like a douse of ice water along his spine.

_(This is wrong-!)_

“ _Squall...”_

He exhaled a heavy breath almost in relief, letting his head fall back again and shutting his eyes. He imagined Seifer's body moulded to every line of his, weighing down on his back and in perfect sync with his lower half as he rammed in and out of Rinoa with increasing speed. He grabbed blindly at one of her thighs where it was now hooked around his waist, pretending his hand was met with the resistance of thick muscle instead of sinking into yielding flesh.

“ _You feel so good, Squall...”_

_(Come back...)_

“ _Cum for me, Squall...”_

_(Shit-)_

“Argh-!” He pitched forward, his lithe body sweat-laced and lax with exhaustion collapsing after a blissed-out moment of suspension. He pressed a fist to his mouth as he fought to catch his breath, tremors rolling through him like aftershocks.

“ _You're mine, Squall...”_

His chest caved in as his lids weakly fluttered open, wanting to look behind him- reach a hand out- but he knew he would be met with nothing but emptiness. He didn't want the illusion to end. Rolling off Rinoa more swiftly than his tired body liked, he stared wordlessly up at the ceiling, feeling as though it was closing in.

“Wow...Squall, that was...” Rinoa trailed off, still breathless and her tone exceedingly amazed. “...Intense.” He looked over at her, his head clouded and his gut crunching queasily in shame. Everything he'd been suppressing rose as one, clogging up his throat and blocking his airways. Reaching over he plucked a tissue from its box and deposited his slick used condom into it before dropping it on the floor and tugging up his boxers from where they were still twisted around his legs. Rinoa curled into his side, caressing a palm on his chest over his heart.

_(I...)_

“See, I knew you could do it. You were just nervous is all.”

As though from a vast expanse, he sensed himself turn them over so that they were spooned together, facing the wall. He couldn't look at her face, couldn't look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her tone was a sudden mixture of anxiety, uncertainty and clear worry but her words were pillowed with fatigue.

“I'm fine,” he answered mechanically, putting an arm over her and placing a feather-light kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep.”

“You really wore me out, Squall,” she giggled sleepily, pressing closer and clasping his hand tightly in both of hers. He knew she hadn't cum; supposed that loving him meant she didn't mind that sort of thing. “Goodnight...”

“...'Night.” His stomach somersaulted with the genuine urge to throw up but he swallowed it back down, lying as still as a statue and waiting for her breathing to even out.

_(I...)_

He was afraid to finish the thought, had no idea how it would end; so he stared at the wall, blinking away his tiredness and once he was sure Rinoa was sound asleep, he gently extracted himself from her clutches and soundlessly left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Squall coughed and spluttered, bracing himself against the toilet seat as he hacked up the meagre contents of his stomach. He hadn't been able to hold it in any more, everything spewing out- his emotions, Rinoa's, his momentary lapse in sanity. He sucked in lungfuls of oxygen as soon as he was awarded a moment of reprieve, swiping the back of his hand over his clammy forehead. His entire frame was wracked with tremors, teeth beginning to chatter mildly under the oncoming sweep of cold sweat. What had he been thinking? Why would he put himself through that-? He'd been in an attempt to stand when he doubled back over, puking up what he dearly hoped was the last remains of the sandwich he'd eaten and doing his best to keep his noise to the minimum. He didn't know what he'd do if Rinoa woke and found him in this state.

_(I'm a fool.)_

“ _Yeah, you got that right.”_

Folding his arms, he rested his head on them, squeezing his closed weary eyes into his flesh so hard that it hurt. He sniffed in a long haggard breath, taking a minute to register how wet and damp his arms were becoming beneath his face. He raised his head slowly, touching shaky fingers to his cheek before lifting them away. He rubbed the moisture coating them between his thumb and index, gaze dull, vacant. With the little strength he had left, he pushed himself up from the floor, using the cistern for support and flushed the toilet before staggering to the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above, goosebumps standing out along his bare arms and chest. As if from afar, he watched the salt water tracking down his face, an air of detachment descending on him that he clung to for reassurance. It had been years since he'd seen his stormy eyes red-rimmed and dewy like this- not long enough. Nothing had been able to reduce him to tears since Sis had been taken away from him and although he was silent as the grave, not sobbing nor whimpering, he felt a swarm of self-hatred encompass him at the mere miserable sight. His voice was thick, choked up when he spoke into the quiet.

“You haven't changed at all.”

_(Still that snivelling pathetic kid abandoned at an orphanage.)_

Deja vu hit him square between the eyes before he'd finished the thought, paranoia itching up his spine. Just like his life, it appeared his thoughts were on an endless loop. Shaking his head to clear it, his aching eyes drifted down to the creamy unblemished skin of his neck. No mark in sight. Tentatively, he raised his hand to the hollow below his ear as if he might be able to feel what he couldn't see. The bite that never was. His eyebrows furrowed in disillusioned melancholy.

_(Do I...miss him that much?)_

_(Or do I really...)_

He'd thought he wanted to see Seifer, for things to go back to the way they were; snarky comments before the start of class, standing side by side in the cafeteria watching Zell slump in defeat having yet again missed the lunchtime hot dog rush, competing in the training centre to see who could kill the most monsters, stumbling across him studying for once in the library late at night. He didn't want to see him, he just wanted him. He wanted him there, to bump into in the hall when he left his dorm in the morning, to find him taking on T-Rexaurs when he grew tired enough of paperwork to go searching for him, to see him fooling around with Fūjin and Raijin by the central water fountains.

_(But there's no place for you here, is there...?)_

_(Not any more.)_

He leant forward, gripping the edge of the sink and hanging his head between his shoulder blades. He didn't know how much longer he could go leaving his rooms everyday without any chance of Seifer sauntering up behind him and throwing a heavy obnoxious arm around his neck.

“ _Look who we have here. I see you're just as bright eyed as ever, Squall. That sunny disposition of yours will blind us all one day.”_

(...Whatever-)

“ _Whatever. Yeah, yeah, never gonna change that record are you, Squall?”_

“ _Get lost, Seifer.”_

“ _At least I know I can count on you.”_

Languidly, his thoughts wandered back six months to the day Seifer had left. So easily- tactlessly- he'd walked away from him. He used a spar to say goodbye and that was that. Only it hadn't been, had it? Months on, he still had yet to shake the older man from his thoughts, to cease seeing his ghost in every shadow within Garden, to stop _wishing_ that they weren't ghosts at all- that it was Seifer himself, here in the flesh.

“ _Nice knowing you!”_

Seifer had been obviously frustrated, outraged even at his casual dismissal as Squall was now, looking back in hindsight. The fact was, Squall hadn't truly believed for a second that he would never see the blond again. He'd held onto his duffel bag like it was a lifeline- the guarantee of Seifer's return. He'd never looked inside, never pondered whether there was anything of actual value in there that his ex-sparring partner would come back for. He did that sometimes- made assumptions. It was a bad habit to have and yet again it came back to bite him now.

Inhaling deeply, he repeatedly splashed cold water over his face until his nerves began to lose feeling. His skin was as pale as death, the dark indigo bags beneath his eyes stark against it. He didn't think his outward appearance had ever displayed his inner state as accurately as this before- wondered how anyone in Garden hadn't already raised concerns about him. Averting his gaze, he busied himself with brushing his teeth and washing out the rancid taste in his mouth. He couldn't stay here, with Rinoa blissfully asleep in his bed while he cowered alone in the bathroom like a frightened kitten left out in the rain. He wasn't going to be that kid any more.

With a flash of renewed purpose to his lifeless limbs, he crept back into the bedroom and rescued his leather pants from the floor, hiking them up his legs and hastily throwing on his thread-bare white t-shirt. Leaving would only encourage him deeper into the turmoil residing in his chest, chaining himself in his morbid thoughts but he couldn't return to that tainted bed and he couldn't risk Rinoa waking to find him wallowing in the dark on the sofa either. He had to go. Not sparing a backwards glance, he stepped into his boots by the front door and slid the sleeves of his jacket along his arms; looking back was what had got him into this mess in the first place. He wouldn't be doing that any more.

Out in the hall there was a crisp chill in the air appropriate for the time of night it was and he zipped up his jacket, jamming his fists into the pockets. With his mind too noisy and jumbled, he started aimlessly towards the exit of the dormitory, no one destination to zero in on even if he could. The training centre was his gut choice but it was also the worst place he could think of to go right now, too much of his history in its soil, too much of Seifer's voice in its echo chambers. He could leave the grounds entirely, walk down to Balamb Town but something held him back, a knot in his stomach at the idea that he might not be able to bring himself to return once morning came. Nothing standing in the way of a one-way ticket off the continent.

“ _Why not? What's really stopping you from grabbing your blade and going right now?”_

_(Because...)_

“ _Well? Come on, Squall, spit it out.”_

_(...I don't know where you are.)_

He stopped and leaned an arm against the wall to help keep him upright, his free hand pressing into his closed eyes so hard that black spots erupted across his vision when he finally let up on himself.

_(Stop.)_

_(I can't think about you.)_

_(Not now...)_

Hushed laughter and giggling floated to his ears from the entrance up ahead, jolting him violently away from his self-made tormentor and snapping his back up ramrod straight.

“Shhh! You really want the cadets to see you like this?!”

“You're being louder than I am-”

“Guys, shut up- oops, I guess we're already busted.”

“Huh-?”

“Isn't that Squall?”

“Phew, that's lucky!”

Squall just stood and watched as Zell and Selphie stumbled closer to him with a more than figuratively legless Quistis haphazardly supported between them. He didn't think he'd experienced any kind of whiplash as bad as this.

“Hey, Squall,” Zell smiled sheepishly, his voice hushed but no less loud for it.

“Squall~ you should've come out with us! It was so much fun.” Quistis was slurring pretty badly, while Selphie swayed to and fro tipsily on one side and Zell looked completely sober on the other.

“Quisty had a bit too much to drink,” the petite brunette pointed out the obvious, grinning impishly from ear to ear. “But it really was a fun night.”

“Fun for some,” Zell muttered aloud but went ignored.

“We would've invited you too, but you never want to,” Quistis informed him. The abrupt reprimand in her tone was undermined by the fact that her tongue wasn't working right and her glasses were askew upon her nose. Anyone but Squall would most likely find the sight comical and by the sour look on Zell's face, he for once wasn't the only one.

“We convinced Nida to fly us over to Deling City,” the blond martial artist explained at Squall's raised eyebrow. “He had the good sense to fly back after the first two hours of waiting on us though. Not that that was good for us.”

“Nida?”

“All we had to do was get Quisty to flirt with him,” Selphie giggled in answer to his unspoken question, earning a whine of protest from the older woman.

_(Poor Nida.)_

“Hey, you okay, man?” Zell was looking him over, a doubtful frown scrunching up his baby-faced features as he belatedly took notice of Squall's sickly pallor and unkempt condition. “You're looking kinda...peeky.”

“You're not coming down with something, are you, Squall?” Quistis was all motherly concern now, squinting at him through her drunken haze. “I told you, you're working yourself to death! You need to relax-”

“Irvine not with you?” Squall inquired absently just to put a stop to Quistis' scolding.

“Oh, he stayed on in Galbadia to catch up with friends after his mission,” Selphie smiled cheerfully in response and not for the first time, Squall pondered how easily his pseudo-sister could go being without her man, when it was such a tough struggle for Rinoa to be without him. He looked down, working to push those thoughts away. He couldn't think about Rinoa, couldn't remember the moans that had poured from her mouth all too recently. “Zell's right though, you don't look good, Squally. Actually, you look like you need a drink.” He glanced back up, noting the worry that was now playing about Selphie's smile.

“How about it, Squall?” Zell chipped in, producing a bottle of Deling City's home brand whisky from his jacket with his free hand. “Take it back to my dorm? It's the closest and Quistis is a lot heavier than she looks.”

“Hey!” The woman with the long straight honey coloured hair smacked him on the arm but even Squall could see how flimsy the impact was. He put his palm to his face partly because it was simply expected of him and partly because he didn't think he could speak without the wear and tear of the night coating his tongue. There was no denying he was severely tempted by the offer of alcohol, questioning whether it would help any to shut off his mind or only make matters worse. With his eyes closed he felt Seifer's presence, saw him on the back of his eyelids but that was no different to when his eyes were open. Drinking wasn't likely to rid him of the apparition, rather make the hallucinations more vivid but with a sigh he dropped his hand and moved Selphie gently aside to duck under the arm she'd been using to prop Quistis up.

“Yay! A little nightcap for the orphanage gang,” she chirped, doing a bad job at keeping her voice down.

“Yeah, the only person who's missing is Irvine,” Quistis joined in happily, her head lulling against Squall's shoulder as he and Zell half carried her down the hallway.

“You need to sober up,” he commented lowly, hitching her body up in an attempt to lessen the strain on their necks.

“Oh! Should I go and wake Rinoa, Squall? I'm sure she'd be up for a late night hangout.” His stomach dropped at the suggestion and he had to loosen his grip on Quistis from where it had reflexively tightened bitingly.

“No.” He saw Selphie jump slightly in his peripheral as the blunt word shot from his mouth. A cover, a lie was forming on his tongue but he stopped, mentally faltering. He glanced down at her wide questioning eyes, large and green. “I don't want to see her.” He repressed his complicated emotions and merely allowed her to read the earnestness within his gaze, his words murmured in the hopes that the admission would only stay between the two of them. He didn't want to lie- he'd done enough of that tonight, omission or not. The woman with the short caramel-brown hair regarded him quietly for a moment, a soft smile of understanding lighting her pixie features before she finally looked forward again.

“Okay!”

“What're you two whispering about? Something's going on, I know it,” Zell complained in irritation, never one to take being left out with grace.

“Just shut up, Zell,” Quistis murmured without any heat, chortling at his instant indignation. “My head's really fuzzy. Get me to a bed in one piece, please?”

“Alright, alright, we're here.”

Squall exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as they heaved Quistis through the doorway and manoeuvred her over to the sofa. He steadied her carefully against Zell's brightly patterned blue cushions, reaching up to straighten her glasses.

“You want some water?” He asked as Selphie settled beside her, Zell returning from the kitchen with a couple of tumblers.

“What, I'm only fit for the sofa?” She joked instead, her head tipping back to rest and her peruvian blue eyes sliding shut. “Coffee.” Squall headed into the kitchen without further prompt, taking his time preparing the hot drink so that he could prolong his separation from the group a little. Their company was a distraction he hadn't realised he'd needed but his thoughts were still scattered enough for him to relish in the quick breather.

“Squall,” Zell said, announcing his sudden presence and clapping a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at the glass of whisky that the blond set down on the counter for him, stirring sugar into Quistis' black coffee. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered flatly, his skin itching beneath Zell's palm through his clothes. His adopted brother removed his hand to link his fingers together as though he'd learned the exact time it took for Squall to become uncomfortable under physical contact. The brunette couldn't help but be grateful for it.

“Be real with me, man. I think we can all tell there's something up.” Zell spoke uncharacteristically quietly and Squall looked up briefly to take in the perplexed lines of his friends tattooed features.

“Let's have that drink, Zell,” he eventually replied after a pregnant pause, giving a nod to his drink on the side. “Come on.” Picking up his and Quistis' drinks he went through into the living area, sitting the coffee down on the table in front of her and perching on the sofa next to Selphie. As strong as the urge to talk about everything had been, the last person he could expect unbiased advice and support from was Zell. He hated Seifer and he loved Rinoa. There would be no hesitation in making his stance known. Quistis slumped forward to pick up her cup as Zell pulled an amp away from the wall to sit on, leaning his forearms on his legs and cupping his drink in his hands.

“Guess we'll have to apologise to Nida tomorrow for leaving him hanging.”

Quistis snorted in an unladylike manner and Squall glanced between her and Zell as he took a long draw from his drink. He grit his teeth against the bite, feeling colour finally returning to his face even if it was the fire of alcohol.

“Oh, come on! It's not like we could've taken him with us- he was supposed to be our designated driver,” Quistis defended, throwing up an arm in emphasis before she took a tentative sip of her hot drink.

“Um, yeah, Quistis but we didn't exactly let him in on that part,” Zell retorted with a shake of his head and Selphie giggled behind her hand, her legs curled up beneath her. Squall's attention drifted away from the conversation, lowering his stormy eyes to the glass he nursed in his hand.

“Hyne, that was _your_ idea!”

“He wouldn't've done it otherwise.”

“We don't know that...”

“Quistis, who in their right mind would willingly agree to sit around bored out their mind while their colleagues go out drinking, just to fly them home again once they're done?”

“I mean, he could've come with us. He just couldn't drink-”

“Oh my Hyne! You like him too, don't you?!” Squall jerked a tad at Selphie's higher pitched voice, taking another gulp of his whisky and focusing his gaze over Selphie's head on Quistis' flushed, alarmed expression.

“Look, you, just because I'm an attractive single woman does not mean I fancy any man that crosses my path,” Quistis claimed adamantly, her tongue struggling to get around her inebriation and giving Selphie a drunken wink, setting the short girl off again. The honey-blond only kept her stern expression for a second or two before dissolving into laughter along with her, Zell grinning widely and resting his cheek in his hand. “Now, shut up, Squall- I have something to tell you guys.” Selphie smiled over at his dark glare, patting his arm as they waited for Quistis to continue.

“Tell us what?” Zell asked curiously after draining his glass and leaning over to pour another. Squall sat down his glass in wordless request and Zell obliged before picking up his own and chinking it against Squall's.

“Well, you'll never guess who I got a call from the other day,” Quistis began with a teasing smirk around the lip of her cup.

“Ellie?” Selphie guessed excitedly, looping her arm in the older woman's. Squall's interest piqued at the name somewhat, although he could already feel his senses dulling, lids growing heavy.

“Nope,” Quistis batted back with more relish than Squall could understand.

“Matron?” Selphie guessed again.

“Nope- oh but Squall, I'd like to take a weekend off soon to go down and visit the orphanage.” She took a long drink of her coffee, turning eyes on him that were fortunately beginning to sober. Before he could respond however, Zell and Selphie were jumping in.

“Ooh, I wanna go!”

“Yeah! It's been ages since I've seen Matron. We should all go.” Three sets of eyes landed on Squall and he blinked drowsily, unprepared for the sudden scrutiny.

“Come with us, Squall, you need a break,” Quistis coaxed, smiling broadly when he met her gaze. “ _All_ of us, the whole gang- and you can invite Rinoa too- it'll be like a family reunion.” He felt a lance to his chest at the heartfelt words, schooling his expression away and keeping his pain internalised. It wasn't what she'd said, wasn't the people she'd spoke of- it was the one person she left out.

_(A family reunion?)_

It was like some kind of sick joke. Was he really the only one who missed him? Who felt his absence in their lives, keenly or otherwise?

_(He's not dead!)_

That's what he wanted to say because that's how they were all acting. No, it was even worse than that. They were all acting as though he had never been at the orphanage with them, had never grown up with them, had never been one of them. To them, Seifer didn't exist at all. They didn't think of him, they didn't care about him, they didn't remember him. Was that what it was? They were forgetting him? Had already forgotten him? Clenching his fingers around his glass in his lap, he lifted his eyes again, staring at Quistis unflinchingly.

“Not all of us.” His voice was low with the suggestion of the special type of bland he had perfected over the years but he knew there were thunderclouds gathering in his eyes, saw it the second the gil dropped for Quistis. A combination of hurt and knowing and finally recognition spread across her face, her eyes going glassy. He was glad for it, glad for any reaction that wasn't indifference.

“Huh? Does that mean you're not coming, Squall?” Zell asked from the sidelines, only serving to pour more salt in his wounds, but he was still daring Quistis to contradict him and he could tell she'd noticed his slight flinch. Her eyes stuttered closed as she sniffled but when she reopened them, there was a quivering smile gracing her face, the start of a relieved chuckle falling from her lips.

“Quisty?” Selphie uttered uncertainly in clear concern. The honey-blond gave a faint cough, trying to regain her composure but there was a glint of amazement in her eyes when she looked back at Squall.

“I'm alright, don't fuss,” she said with a wave of her hand before wrapping her arm comfortably around Selphie. “Now, are there no more guesses? Come on, no ones interested in who called me up out of the blue?” Her gaze deliberately remained on Squall and he sensed more than felt himself still, fine eyebrows gradually pulling together in conflict.

“Wait, what? We're back to that?” Zell asked quizzically, electric blue eyes bleary now from the whisky. Squall's heart was pounding so rapidly in his chest that he was having difficulty concealing his emotions, acutely aware of Quistis' gaze on him that he was no longer able to hold. She couldn't be talking about him. Why would _he_ call her? Why would _she_ be the one he...?

“Squall...” He heard her prompt him carefully as if from afar, his eyes in the distance.

“Squall called you?” Selphie responded in bemusement.

“No,” he breathed out monotonously, still not fully tethered to reality and feeling the alcohol swishing around in his stomach. “Seifer.” It physically stung for him to speak his name out loud, to be talking about him at all, to anyone. He braced instinctively for the confirmation.

“Yes. Seifer! Of all people!” Quistis announced brightly to the group, watching Zell and Selphie's eyebrows shooting up in varying degrees of shock and pure surprise.

“Seifer?!” Zell was the first to blurt out, an angry frown reddening his features. “What the hell did he want?” His voice fizzed in and out of the white noise currently clouding Squall's mind, the volume all off kilter. He didn't want to listen to this, couldn't.

“You know what, Zell, I think he misses me,” Quistis replied breezily with a tinge of delighted disbelief. There was only a hint of slurring to her words now and a part of Squall wished she was still too drunk for this kind of coherence and clarity. “He said 'I wouldn't be disinclined to meet up if you're ever in Galbadia'. If that isn't Seifer-speak for I miss you, I don't know what is.”

“Galbadia?!” Zell repeated incredulously, eyes almost popping out of his skull.

“Isn't he forbidden from Galbadia like he is Balamb?” Selphie murmured out weakly, less emotion in her face than any of them had ever witnessed. Squall felt guilt that didn't belong to him as the memory of Trabia Garden's ruins crawled up from the depths of his mind. He couldn't wrack his brain around this at all. There'd been no word- for _six_ months- and now Seifer was calling up Quistis like they'd ever been close, like they'd ever been anything? Out of everyone, she was the one he finally got in touch with? The one he wanted to see, the one he wanted to reconnect with. Squall's arms moved of their own volition, putting his glass on the table and reaching for the bottle of whisky to pour out a third drink.

“ _What's the matter, you jealous?”_

_(How shallow do you think I am?)_

“ _You trying to tell me you let anybody in further than skin-deep?”_

_(I don't need to tell_ you _that.)_

He all but tossed his drink back, barely refraining from downing it in one go and tuning back into the conversation.

“...risk living there?”

“Well he said he's making a living in Winhill,” Quistis told them with a smile, evidently lost in the recollection of hers and Seifer's catch up.

“We _are_ talking about Seifer Almasy, right?” Zell double-checked with acidic sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

“He's living in Winhill?” Selphie stated more than asked, a tiny smile flicking up the corners of her lips as she sat looking down at her clasped hands in her lap.

“Yes, he is,” Quistis answered patiently, nodding and smiling fondly. “He said he heard something about Laguna finding safe haven from the people of Winhill during the previous Sorceress war and well, he took his chances that they took more stock in peoples hopes for the future rather than the sins of their pasts.”

“And they welcomed him in?” The disgust in Zell's voice was palpable but Squall was stuck on another track entirely.

“How long?” His voice was barely audible, his tone as distant as his gaze but the silence that reigned told him they'd heard him.

“He's been there two months,” Quistis told him measuredly, leaving it at that as though she was the one on tenter hooks here. He could feel her appraising him again but he didn't say anything, just took a gulp of his drink.

“I thought he'd forgotten about us,” Selphie admitted after a loaded moment, sounding ruefully amused. Squall stood up at that and paced away from the sofa, coming to stand with his right shoulder nudging against the red punching bag Zell had hanging from the ceiling. He let his eyelids fall shut as he clutched his glass to his chest.

_(He did forget about us.)_

_(He just didn't forget about Quistis.)_

Unbidden Seifer's confession from the day of his trial fluttered to the forefront of his mind, the memory as clear as day, searing into Squall's chest.

“ _I loved you, you know? Back at the orphanage...Little Squally. Hyne, I loved Quistis too...Sephie, even when she was being annoying as all hell...Irvine, he was always up for some mischief...Zell...not so much.”_

It began to dawn on him then; Quistis was the only one out of the lot of them that he could bear to face. He couldn't face Selphie after Trabia, couldn't face Irvine without getting his teeth knocked out on Selphie's behalf. He wouldn't want to see Zell and the martial artist hated his guts anyway. That left only Squall and Quistis. The remnants of confusion lifted and he was left yet again with the repercussions of his own actions. He'd all but flung Seifer aside like a handgun that had run out of rounds in the middle of a gunfight, reaching for another, so why would the blond ever conceive the idea that Squall might want to see him again? Why would he want to see Squall again? It wasn't just that, he knew, understood. Seifer and Quistis had always been the eldest, the big brother and big sister once Ellone was gone. Of course Quistis would be the one Seifer extended his hand out to, who he'd bet on to swallow her pride and bend down to take his proffered hand, pulling him up over the ledge. If she'd left him hanging there on the precipice, he would've respected the decision without pain or suffering or resentment. It would've been tough love, it would've been saying 'you've got to do this alone, Seifer, you've got to stand on your own two feet and come to terms with what you did'. When Squall had left him hanging that day six months ago, it hadn't been tough love of any kind. He'd washed his hands of Seifer whether he knew it or not. That was the way Seifer saw things, the way his mind worked.

If Squall could rewind time, he'd go back to that day- not before he graduated as SEED, not years back when they'd enrolled in Garden- just the day of Seifer's exile, standing there in the training centre together.

_(You need to leave...but don't_ go _.)_

“ _Bit late for that now, ain't it, Squally?”_

“Squall?” Quistis' voice barely broke through the alcohol induced fog now blanketing his senses, searching and gentle. He fought to keep control of his motor skills as he turned back to face his friends on a sigh, remaining where he was. “I was just saying that I talked to Seifer about visiting Matron...”

“Hyne knows why,” Zell muttered darkly under his breath, taking another drink. Squall stared down into his glass, unsure of what was expected of him. What did she want, his permission?

“He said he wouldn't come if you were,” his ex-instructor elaborated, making the effort to get to her feet as though to be on equal grounds with him, empty coffee mug in hand. Selphie had leant forward with her hands out to catch her if she slipped but Quistis just about managed to stay upright. Squall was still replaying her words in his head, almost feverishly trying to decipher the reason behind Seifer making that statement. Was it because Seifer thought he wouldn't show up if he was going, or was it because he simply didn't want to see him? His eyes swayed to where Selphie was sitting, subdued.

“Torturing me is nothing compared to what he put Selphie through,” he found himself murmuring thoughtfully, noting how Quistis bit her lip first at the mention of his torture and then even worse at the reminder of Trabia Garden. “Or didn't that occur to him?”

“He wants to see Selphie,” the honey-blond replied, quick to the absent blond's defence and waving her mug around in a haphazard gesture.

_(So he doesn't want to see me...)_

“...to apologise and at least try to make amends. That is...if you'll let him...” Her eyes had turned to the petite brunette now, hope and sorrow mingling together in her expression.

“I...I don't know, Quisty,” Selphie began, looking up with misty green eyes before uncurling her legs from their comfortable position and wringing her hands. “I want him to come, I do. He'll always be a part of our family, no matter what. But personally...maybe in time I can forgive him, but I'm never gonna forget what he did, Quisty. So yeah, he can come to our reunions- I'll be happy to see him and know he's doing okay- but don't get his hopes up about properly being apart of all our lives again when some of us- when _I_ don't think I can agree to that.”

“And that's okay, Selphie, really,” Quistis reassured without missing a beat, returning to the younger woman's side on the sofa and hugging her close in consolation. “That's more than he's expecting from any of us-”

“No, it's not okay,” Zell protested vehemently, drawing all eyes as he near but slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “Selphie, if you don't want him there then that's it! No discussion! I mean come on- this is _Seifer_! Who _would_ want him there? Do any of you really think he gives a shit about us? I know I don't have to remind anyone about all the terrible things he did in the war, but where's he been the last six months? What's he been doing all this time that only now out of nowhere, he wants to 'make amends'? Seifer has only ever cared about one person and that's himself. For the first time he's actually been alone and surprise, surprise! He realised its not that easy- especially when you're a war criminal. He's not reaching out 'cause he _misses_ us! He just has nowhere else to go and no one to turn to! He's probably planning on bumming money off Matron-”

“Zell,” Squall silenced him in a lethal tone, finally intervening and doing his utmost to hold back a violent outburst. If he'd had Lionheart on him, he didn't know if he would've been able to hold himself back in the state he was in. He was too far gone on the combination of the events of the night and the whisky to truly care about how much of his current behaviour was betraying him. All he could think was that if another attack on Seifer's character left the martial artist's mouth, he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions. “You need to _grow up_. Seifer is one of us- end of story. You're too old now not to have accepted that and moved on. So stop with this childish nonsense and start acting like an adult. You weren't the only one he used to bully and pick on- the only reason he ever dealt you it the hardest was because you _always reacted_. I've told you this before and I'm not going to say it again so for once just shut up and _listen_.” He made one of his rare wide cutting gestures with his free arm to punctuate his point before turning his back once more to stare intently out of one of Zell's box windows. For several seconds a heavy tension weighed down the atmosphere of the room, nobody breathing let alone speaking in the aftermath of both his and Zell's tirades. Typically, Quistis was the first one to attempt to dissolve the animosity vibrating from the two men.

“Zell, I know you and Seifer have never got along,” she began in a quiet sympathetic manner, with only an echo of her previous slurring. Her eyes were teary and exhausted as she removed her glasses to wipe them clean with the cuff of her dove blue satin shirt. “And I know how much his teasing always upset you- no one's discounting that at all-” She paused momentarily and Squall could sense her side-eyeing him strictly. “- to him it was just messing around and toying with you to get a rise, but I know he's said a lot of things over the years that were really hurtful to you. I just want us to have a nice civil mini vacation altogether like a normal family. You don't have to talk to him, Zell, just be under the same roof for a couple nights...and if he does start, both me and Matron will scold him enough for two lifetimes over.” She chuckled a bit, smiling warmly at her younger brother in encouragement. Squall half-heartedly rolled his eyes, mentally refusing to feel bad for being so harsh with his words.

_(Come on, Seifer wasn't that bad.)_

_(Not like he used to steal Zell's lunch money and beat him up after class.)_

_(He pissed me off all the time and I have no problem with him...)_

“ _That's 'cause you enjoyed my attention.”_

_(...Shut up.)_

“No, Quistis, Squall's right,” Zell responded in a mixture of annoyance and resignation, voice lowered for a change. “We're not kids any more- I don't need Matron or you telling Seifer off on my behalf for being a dick. You've all clearly decided he's welcome to gatecrash, fine. I'm not happy about it and I'm not gonna be so don't expect some pretend wholesome family getting-along 'cause that ain't us.” Squall was surprised enough by the hyperactive blond's backing down that he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the latter's expression. For someone making an effort to be mature about this new predicament, Zell's tomato-faced pout was all it took to contradict his speech. Squall felt himself soften a tad, something he explained away as merely the whisky sludging through his system. Exhaling deeply and wiping a palm over his face, he slunk over to his friends and dumped his half-empty glass on the coffee table.

“Don't worry, Zell, I'll beat Seifer up if he says anything mean,” Selphie proclaimed with a raised fist and a grin that was decidedly more mischievous, if not cheerful than at the beginning of the conversation.

“It won't be easy for any of us, Zell,” Squall admitted with a vaguely contrite cast to his pale features, forcing himself to engage in physical contact by laying a hand on his shoulder. Zell's dejected gaze flew first to the hand on his shoulder and then to Squall's grey-blue eyes, the angry creases in his tattooed face easily smoothing out.

“I'm sorry, man,” he said with a small self-deprecating smile, placing a hand on top of Squall's. “I know it's gonna be worse for you.” Squall froze at that, heart bursting into a sprint. Zell must have read confusion in the way his brows had pulled together because he went on to clarify, squeezing his hand. “Seeing him'll probably bring back memories of D-District...Its funny, that seems like ages ago now.” Giving Zell's shoulder a brief squeeze of acknowledgement in return, Squall retreated back to his place on the sofa, working to slow his heart rate. Memories of D-District were the least of his worries and he could only be glad that Zell and the others had no idea.

“Will you be okay, Squally?” Selphie asked with wide eyes, touching his arm lightly in support.

“I can handle Seifer,” he said without an ounce of the hesitation and doubt he felt within him, looking down at her with a faint smile that she returned immediately before sharing it with the others too.

“Well, I'm beat,” Quistis announced after a tranquil beat of silence, moving lethargically to get to her feet. Selphie jumped up to help her, leaving Squall to follow. The reality waiting for him back at his dorm hit him in the gut but he strained himself not to let it show, focusing instead on the tasks of saying goodnight to Zell and walking his sisters to their dorms. Quistis pecked Zell on the cheek on her way out, Selphie opting for a quick side hug and Squall settling for a brisk nod.

“'Night guys!” Zell stage-whispered from his doorway, waving them off. “See you at breakfast!”

“'Night, Zell!”

“Goodnight!”

They dropped off Selphie first, the petite woman blinking sleepily as she embraced them both before bouncing into her dorm with a bubbly wave of her tiny hand. He could tell how much the recollection of the Trabia tragedy had worn her out by the tight lines around her eyes and mouth, despite the brave face and friendly smile she'd bestowed them. Quistis looked to be on the same train of thought as she released a sigh of regret, glancing over at him as they walked. He rested a steadying palm on her back without preamble, raking fingers through his messy locks.

“I'm alright, Squall,” the honey-blond insisted weakly, fatigue clinging to her posture as they neared her door, crossing to the opposite side of the hall. “Maybe I should've approached everybody separately. Irvine's not even here to keep an eye on Selphie.”

“She'll be fine,” he responded in genuine belief, doing his best not to allow the inevitable wallowing of his own situation from setting in just yet. “T-Garden were more like a family unit the way she's spoken of them and I think when it comes to facing...Seifer, it's more about her memories of them than it is about holding him responsible. He's a reminder that they're gone.”

“Will it be the same for you?” She asked guardedly as they came to a stop at her dorm, meeting his gaze with something akin to oncoming disappointment in hers. “Is he a reminder of D-District? I know you intentionally steered the discussion away from that.”

“No,” he denied without emotion, crossing his arms and looking down. “I didn't have bad PTSD, but...” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders defensively and casting his eyes off to the side.

“But?” She repeatedly lowly without any pressure, mirroring his stance. He opened his mouth, words tumbling to the end of his tongue before closing it again in mild frustration that she caught onto. “He betrayed us. That's it, isn't it?”

“No,” he breathed out inaudibly, scowling inwardly at his inability to just say what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He knew he could trust Quistis, but the mere idea of saying the words had his throat tightening. “...He left.” It's all he could get out and by the way realisation dawned on Quistis' face, eyes instantly welling up, told him that those two words expressed more than he could ever begin to explain in full sentences.

“Oh, Squall...” she murmured with a hand hovering over her mouth, sniffing back tears before they could fall. Without much of a warning, she enveloped him in her arms and maternally smoothed down the hair at the back of his head.

“I'm fine, it's nothing,” he tried to back-pedal, voice thin as he stood stiffly in her hug, feeling his emotions expanding and threatening to explode. She pulled back after a moment, attempting to tuck his bangs behind his ears.

“He misses you,” she confided earnestly, her intelligent blue eyes bordering on adamant. “He'd never admit it but he doesn't have to- he's so obliviously obvious...” She chuckled a little, clasping his hands in hers. “We've spoken everyday since that first call and more than once he's asked after you. 'How's Squall doing?', 'Is Squall still training?', 'Squall pissed off any of the higher-ups yet?'.” She chuckled again, eyes crinkling at the corners in her familiar fond amusement. Squall could only stare, looking through her as his mind worked overtime. His chest panged painfully as he envisioned the picture Quistis was painting for him, wanting so much to believe her while simultaneously not wanting the hopes and expectations she was instilling in him.

“He sounds bored to me,” he found himself retorting, trying to debunk what she'd said so that he could avoid any future hurt and humiliation. If he and Seifer were to reunite in the next couple of weeks, he didn't want Quistis' misguided conclusions filling up his head. “Fishing for gossip to keep himself entertained.”

“Now you're just being stubborn,” his pseudo-sister reproached with her eyebrows raised in challenge, continuing when he made no move to rise to it. “He thinks he's being subtle about it but you and I both know subtle and Seifer have never gone together.”

_(That's one way to put it.)_

“It's his way of making sure you're doing okay and looking after yourself. He's too proud to ask outright...Like somebody else I know.” There was a teasing glint in her eyes now that predictably rubbed him the wrong way. Everything she was saying was like a hammer and chisel to the chinks in his armour and he feared that if he listened to any more he'd be left wide open and exposed. He needed to be alone, to be granted a chance to digest this new information. To process the idea that Seifer might truly have missed him all this time, while he'd been waiting here in Garden for the blond to come back.

“Can I tell him you've missed him too...?” The laughter had left her face now, leaving only a heartfelt plea that only he could concede. The fear increased tenfold, leaving him tongue-tied and at a loss. An admission of that nature sounded to him like boarding a train he wouldn't be able to get off until reaching it's destination. He'd have no control over where it lead and what kind of stark mortification would be waiting for him at the other end. Whether Seifer had missed him or not, there was a distinct difference between that and pure yearning; and he could no longer deny to himself that what he had been experiencing for the last six months was definitely the latter. Without really thinking about it, he took a step back away from her, his expression that of a stone wall. Her face visibly fell in reaction, arms falling limply by her sides in defeat.

“Do what you want, Quistis,” he uttered in a partially testy, partially resolute manner, wondering how much his voice alone carried on it the words that he had chosen to leave unsaid. “Just leave me out of it.”

He left her standing there, veins prickling with his agitation and the deep pit in his stomach persisted. He felt more restless than he had in the entire past six months put together, like a caged animal with no way of breaking free. Seifer was in Winhill. That knowledge alone had him riled up, the back of his mind already mapping out the journey and the time it would take to pack a small bag and drive himself down to town before sunrise. Only he knew he couldn't. His Garden responsibilities sat squarely on his shoulders, Rinoa had turned up to visit him mere hours ago and after the act he had undergone to make her happy and docile, there was no way he could up and leave without so much as a heads up, let alone an explanation.

If he was honest with himself, he knew they were excuses- ways to convince himself that running head long into the Galbadian countryside wasn't the best idea right now- but spontaneity never had been his strong suit, if a suit of his at all. Squall thought and planned and analysed and cross-examined every variable conceivable before making a single move. He weighed the pros and cons and then weighed them again, it was how he was wired; and further down still beneath the unchangeable methodical workings of his mind, he was scared. Even after all he'd been through during the war and the solid friendships, kinsmanships he had established and remembered along the way, there was no getting away from the insecurities constantly snapping at his heels. That little voice in his head that existed purely to sew doubts. To tell him that nobody really cared about him, that everybody leaves in the end, that he had always been better off alone anyway.

The fact was Seifer could miss him all he wanted but that didn't necessarily equate to wanting to see him, to opening his arms in loving welcome at Squall turning up unannounced. For all he or Quistis knew, Seifer didn't actually want any of them back in his life- he'd apparently started anew in Winhill and who was to say he wanted any of them barging in and disrupting the morsel of peace he may have found for himself there? He'd extended an olive branch to Quistis in some kind of hope of rekindling familial ties but that didn't mean he wanted her or anyone else to be active and present in his life. Perhaps all Seifer was really trying to do was find absolution, resolution maybe so that he could properly move on from the horrors of the past.

Squall started a bit, coming back to himself enough to realise he'd been standing just inside his dorm, unmoving. Scrubbing roughly at his face he gradually removed his boots and jacket, doing his best not to dwell on the slim chance of Rinoa waking up on his return to bed.

_(Can I really sleep in there...?)_

_(Beside her...)_

He shook his head slowly, exhaling a long sigh and staring blindly towards his bedroom door. Seifer's old duffel fluttered up to the forefront of his mind and his fine brows furrowed in result.

_(...Maybe it's time I actually took a look.)_

_(Probably just clothes.)_

His aching feet started forward of their own volition, treading as silently as his Garden training had ingrained in him. His bedroom door creaked slightly as he pulled it to behind him, his body freezing in place as he waited with bated breath to see if Rinoa stirred. After several seconds of listening to her continued even breathing, he loosened up a fraction and turned towards his closet. Sliding open the door quietly and carefully, he lowered to his knees and reached forward. His hands collided with the worn coarse material of Seifer's bag in the pitch dark, fingers clawing it towards him as gently as possible to stop it scraping against the bottom of the closet. He held it in his lap for a suspended moment, the lump already formed in his throat growing sharp. Moving his hand to the zip, he tried to swallow back down his nerves with difficulty. The zip gave effortlessly but the jagged sound seemed to reverberate around the room and he glanced hastily towards the bed in thinly veiled dismay. Rinoa stretched as he watched, the bed springs protesting as she rolled over towards the wall. He didn't move a muscle for a whole minute, ears straining for the barest sound of her waking before he eventually decided the coast was clear and breathed out. Tugging out the fabric lying at the top of the bag, softened from years and years of wear and washing, Squall could only mentally kick himself.

_(Of course it's just clothes.)_

The article itself he discovered when he held it up to the moonlight filtering through the window, was an old light grey hoody, fraying along the sleeves with 'BALAMB GARDEN CADET' block printed across the back and its corresponding emblem sewn on the front left.

_(Hyne...)_

_(...It still smells like him...)_

Squall grit his teeth at the flash of nostalgia flooding his senses and the hard stab to his chest, inhaling deeply through his nose and letting his eyelids droop shut. The musk was inherently masculine like the man it belonged to, mingled with faint tracings of the vapid laundry detergent used here in Garden and the salty ocean scents that fluttered on the island breeze. However, it was the lingering citrus deodorant that struck him the most, recognising the particular brand that the blond had always doused himself in. It was the same brand Squall used, only he had always preferred the more chemical scented ones. Reluctantly, he put the hoody down and felt around in the bag for anything else, pushing aside t-shirts and cargo pants in search for something more substantial. Something that Seifer might have packed out of sentimentality.

_(Nothing...)_

_(...Nothing.)_

_(Of course there's nothing.)_

He kneaded his forehead with his fist, clutching the bag tightly in his other hand. He didn't know what he thought he'd find, knowing Seifer the blond had probably kept anything important to him on his person. Heart heaving with more than disappointment, he dropped his hand from his head and went to close the bag when he noticed something shine within. He probed at it with his finger, feeling the slide of metal against his pad. It was another zip- the bag had an inner pocket. With renewed anticipation he drew it open, the sound not nearly as loud to his ears as the previous one had been. He found what felt like square a5 cards inside and when he pulled them out into the dim light, his heart stopped. His suspicions were confirmed; they were photos.

_(So there is some sentimentality in you.)_

_(Or is this your romanticism showing?)_

The first lot of pictures were of Raijin and Fūjin understandably, some with Seifer and others without; eighteen and looking vaguely amused, fifteen and looking royally pissed off from being caught unaware, seventeen and looking simply happy. They made Squall feel strange, considering how their lives had differed from the moment they had thoroughly forgotten each other and veered onto separate but adjacent roads. Seifer had already made himself new friends, no matter how dysfunctional the trio's dynamic worked- with Seifer as the leader ordering the other two about- while Squall had finally found himself left alone, not only by Seifer but everyone. No one to bother him, no one to get annoyed at him for not laughing at their jokes, for not listening to their mindless babble in general. No one to grow sick of his attitude and resort to egotistical name-calling like _freak_ , _boring_ , _nutcase_ , _stuck-up_ , _loser_. Although, even then Seifer had never truly stayed away. The blond had continued acting on their mostly one-sided rivalry, possibly because something somewhere deep down hadn't wanted to let it go, to let Squall go regardless that there were no longer any memories to explain why. Even when Seifer had forgotten him, there had been a connection there still intact, preventing him from abandoning Squall entirely.

As much as the idea should have warmed him, thawing away at the layer of ice that encased his heart, the fact that this clarity was only coming to him in hindsight seemed to have the reverse effect, sending frigid air howling through the gaps in his bones and joints. Moving swiftly passed the pictures of Seifer and his only loyal friends, he came upon year after year of class photos. Squall had never kept any himself, not having a reason to hold onto a photo of people he barely knew the names of let alone spoke to. He was surprised that Seifer had kept them, knowing that the blond interacted with their classmates hardly any more than Squall had. The only explanation he could surmise was that Seifer had collected them as a kind of visual diary of his cadet days, keeping a recording of his history even back then. It was as though the older man had caught onto the fragility of memory early on, had perhaps already noticed some of his childhood growing hazy at the edges, gradually slipping away.

_(Or he just wanted to keep a record of his self-proclaimed life achievements.)_

_(...A lot more likely.)_

Squall did his best to stifle a scoff at his inner monologue before focusing in on where he and Seifer stood in the line-up. They were always at the end of the back row, Seifer for his towering height and Squall for his in-between stature and the lack of space in the middle row. He was always pushed to the back simply because he was one of the only kids with no friends with which he wanted to stand next to in the photo. There was no doubt in his mind that Seifer had deliberately made a point to be beside him in every photo, probably in some humoured attempt at proudly presenting their social outcast status together. It didn't help that he was smirking in almost every single one as if to punctuate that.

Starting from the oldest photo, Squall wondered if at this young an age Seifer had merely wanted to stand beside the only person in his class he knew and thought worthy of his time. He wasn't even looking at the camera, instead grinning mischievously down at Squall who was returning an as of yet unperfected scowl in kind. Despite their taunting and challenging stances, Squall couldn't help but register the way he was bodily shying away from the camera, leaning close to Seifer in what appeared to be a vain attempt to shield himself. It was almost the exact same in the next years photo, except it was more of them simply standing close enough together for their shoulders to bump and actually looking forward, albeit with contrasting expressions of smug and irritated. The next few years had more of the same, the two of them standing as a unit apart from the rest of the class, Squall's expression gradually becoming more and more closed off while Seifer's grew interchangeably between bored and wicked. It was the most recent photo that caused Squall to hold back a flinch however, in that it was the only one truly noticeably different from the others. For the first time there was a slim strip of air clean between their bodies, no part leaning in towards the other. It was a small detail in and of itself but Squall noticed it straight away, lodging the lump squarely back in his throat. The only sign of any remaining connection between them was the lines of their gazes, which were rooted somewhere beyond the cameraman slightly off to the side. They were definitely looking at something- and at least one other cadet in the front row was doing the same- while everybody else busied themselves looking at the camera with smiles that were a lot more jovial as if suppressing laughter. The two gunbladers were the only ones not smiling, instead wearing matching dead-pan expressions, Seifer throwing in an eyebrow raise to cast an imperious slant across his tan features. Squall tried to think back, it not being quite so long ago- gaining snippets of a commotion and a swarm of faculty staff ushering to the scene. Mildly curious, he flipped to the back of the photo, luckily if not a little conveniently finding Seifer's familiar blocky handwriting in capital letters.

_'That chickenwuss and his dumb T-board_

_How in Hyne does he pay to replace them all?'_

Squall felt an alien urge to burst out in laughter, a fist coming up to press hard against his mouth as a low morsel of a chuckle fell free. He could picture it all too clearly now; Zell swerving to avoid his yelling instructor and riding straight over his class' cameraman, sending the camera and its tripod clambering across the pavement. It hadn't been funny at the time- Squall remembered thinking that he hadn't seen anything as lame and stupid a display as that in his entire life- but reading Seifer's commentary on the subject drew a trace of humour from him in as much as he had questioned the same exact thing himself on countless occasions. He hadn't known who Zell was at the time, had long since forgotten him and now that they'd reunited, all he could do was face-palm.

_(Leave it to Zell to make such a spectacular entrance...)_

He pondered if he and Seifer had witnessed more of Zell's calibre in the memories he had lost, once again feeling the hollow void in his mind where they used to be. He was positive that there were memories of Seifer that resided there too at one point, things that the blond no doubt remembered now where he couldn't.

Sitting and gazing over the pictures for another drawn out minute, he hesitantly stacked them and slotted them back into the inside pocket of Seifer's bag. He knew now why the blond had never thought to retrieve his things; he didn't need photos of Raijin and Fūjin- they were still present in his life and now that Squall knew Seifer was living in Winhill, it was all too obvious why the two had transferred to G-Garden all those months back. As to the class photos, what reason would Seifer ever need to see them again? They were only reminders of his life in Garden and after what he'd done, after he'd betrayed the very constitution he'd grown up in, there would be no happy memories attached to them any more.

With a muted sigh, Squall picked up Seifer's hoody and folded it neatly, allowing himself another chance to revel in its lingering scent no matter how sad and pathetic his mind told him he was being. He tucked the garment inside the bag and gingerly zipped it back up before fitting it in its home at the back of his closet. Seifer had no use for any of those things now but Squall knew he couldn't keep it forever. It had been simultaneously sitting in wait at the back of his mind as well as his closet for far too long now and if he honestly wanted to make an effort to move on, he could only do it without this empty souvenir holding him back. Seifer wasn't going to return for it; so he had no choice but to return it to Seifer himself.


End file.
